Beautiful Bitch
by Karmylover92
Summary: She is my Boss and I am her intern. She makes my life a living hell and I push her bottoms as well. We hate each other deeply.But she is also the most beautiful and enigmatic women I've ever met in my life, too bad she is a bitch. A Beautiful Bitch. AU based on The Beautiful Bastard series by Christina Lauren.
1. Chapter 1

**Karma's POV**

My father always said "To learn the job you want you need to spend every waking hour watching someone do it". And "Start from the bottom darling, you need to become the person the CEO can't live without. Be irreplaceable"

And I did just that. I'd become the Right Hand. Too bad most of the days I was the right hand that wanted to punch that damn face.

My Boss, Amy Leigh Raudenfeld. _Beautiful Bitch_

My stomach clenched tightly at the thought of her: tall, gorgeous and entirely evil. She was the most self-righteous, pompous person I'd ever met and also the smartest. I'd hear all the rumors about her escapades and wonder if a nice face was all that took. But my father also said "You realize early in life that beauty is only skin-deep, and ugly goes straight to the bone". I'd had my fair share of unpleasant man and women in the past few years, dated a few in high school and college. But this women… she was something else indeed.

"Well, Hello there, Miss Ashcroft!" Ms. Raudenfeld stood in the doorway to my office apparently waiting for me. Her voice was laced with politeness, but it was all wrong. I knew my boss like the palm of my hand and I was in trouble, in deep trouble but decided to play dumb and pretend everything was fine in the world for a few minutes more.

I gave her my usual. "Good Morning Miss Raudenfeld" hoping she would give me her usual nod in return. But when I tried to slip past her, she said with all the coldness she could master.

"Is it a Good Morning Miss Ashcroft? What time is it in your little perfect world?"

I stopped and met her cold stare. She was taller than me, had beautiful green eyes and her hair was this dirty blonde that made her extremely and annoyingly hot. Before working for her I'd never felt so small. I'd worked for Raudenfeld Media Group for six years. But since her return to the family business nine months ago, I'd taken to wearing heels I used to consider circus height just so I could approach her near eye level. And she loved that, I can tell for the smug look on her face every time I had to tilt my head to look at her.

"I had a bit of a complicated morning. It won't happen again," I said, relieved that my voice came out steady. I had never been late, not once, but leave it to her to make a thing of it the first time it happened. I managed to slip past her, put my purse and coat in my closet, and power up my computer. I tried to act like she wasn't standing in the doorway, watching every move I made.

"Complicated morning you said? Well that's actually a very accurate description for what I've had to deal with in your absence. I've done your job and mine this morning Miss Ashcroft. I hope for your own good this won't happen again" said Miss Raudenfeld with a severe voice meant to scare the shit out of me.

I glanced up at her, antagonizing me, glaring, arms crossed over her chest—and all because I was an hour late. I blinked away, very deliberately not staring at the way her dark designer suit stretched across her shoulders. I had made the mistake of visiting the hotel gym during a convention the first month we worked together and walked in to find her sweaty and only wearing a sport bra next to the treadmill. She had the body and face any lingerie model would kill for and the most amazing hair I've ever seen in a women. She was perfect in every way possible; too bad she couldn't keep her mouth shut, the memory was still burning in my head.

"It's nice to see you finally taking an interest in your physical fitness, Miss Ashcroft." she said with a smirk on her face.

Asshole

"I'm sorry, Miss Raudenfeld." "I understand the burden I placed on you by making you manage a fax machine and pick up a telephone". I said with just a hint of sarcasm in my voice. She gave me her best cynical smile that said "I'm so going to fire your ass but first I'm going to make you suffer."

"Cute, you think you're very funny don't you? Well since you're in such a good mood this morning Miss Ashcroft, I need a presentation of the Booker account for me in the conference room at six. Prove me that I don't need to fire that pretty little ass of yours" she replied, cocky smile firmly in place.

My eyes widened as I watched her turn away, slamming her office door behind her. She knew damn well that I was ahead of schedule with this project, which also served as my MBA thesis. I still had months to finish my slides once the contracts were signed . . . which they weren't—they hadn't even been fully drafted. Now, with everything else on my plate, she wanted me to put together a fucking presentation in . . . I looked at my watch. Great, seven and a half hours, if I skipped lunch. I opened the Booker file and got down to it.

As everyone began filtering out for lunch, I remained glued to my desk with my coffee and a bag of trail mix I'd bought from the vending machine. Normally I'd bring leftovers or leave with the other interns to grab something, but time was not on my side today. I heard the outer office door open and looked up, smiling as Zita Jones walked in. Zita was in the same MBA internship program at Raudenfeld Media Group that I was, though she worked in accounting.

"I'm going to have to skip it. This is the day from hell." I looked at her apologetically, and her smile turned into a smirk.

"Day from hell, or lady boss from hell?" She took a seat on the edge of my desk. "I heard she was on a bit of a rampage this morning."

I gave her a knowing look. Zita didn't work for her, but she knew all about Amy Raudenfeld. As the youngest daughter of company founder Hank Raudenfeld, and with a notoriously short fuse, she was a living legend in the building. "Even if there were two of me, I wouldn't be able to get this finished in time."

"You sure you don't want me to bring you back something?" Her eyes moved in the direction of her office. "A hit man? Some holy water?"

I laughed. "I'm good."

Zita smiled and left the office. I'd just finished off the last of my coffee when I bent down, noting a run in my stockings. "And on top of everything else," I began, hearing Zita return, "I've already snagged these. Actually, if you're going somewhere there are donuts, bring me back fifty pounds, so I can eat my feelings later."

I glanced up and saw that it wasn't Zita standing there. My cheeks flushed red and I pulled my skirt back down.

"I'm sorry, Miss Raudenfeld, I was—"

"You were discussing problematic lingerie with a co-worker, how nice Miss Ashcroft. Since you apparently have time to waste on trivial issues of your daily life and you probably finish the Booker presentation already, I need you to also run down to the Hester office and retrieve the market analysis and segmentation for Harvey" You think you can manage that sweetheart? She said with a condescending voice and a smug on her face that I really was dying to punch. She was trying to affect me, to humiliate me but I wasn't going to let her, not without a fight.

"Of course, I'll be happy to ask Leila if she" –

"I want YOU to do it" she cut me off completely. "It's not a suggestion Miss Ashcroft, is an order." She gazed at me for a moment with a clenched jaw before turning on her heel and storming back to her office, pulling the door closed roughly behind her.

What the hell was her problem? Was slamming doors like a freaking teenager really necessary? I grabbed my blazer from the back of the chair and began making my way to our satellite office a few buildings down.

When I returned, I knocked on her door but there was no response. I tried the knob. Locked. I shoved the manila folder through the mail slot, hoping the papers scattered everywhere and she'd have to get down and sort them herself. Then again, knowing her, she would call me into that sterile hellhole to clean it up while she watched.

Four hours later I had the status updates complete, my slides mostly in order, and I was almost hysterically laughing with how awful this day was. I found myself plotting to murder the Copy store guy. I asked for a simple job that took him two freaking hours to do, making me once again late.

"You're late again" was the first thing I heard when I enter the conference room. I didn't say anything to contradict her, she was right I was twenty minutes late, nervous as hell and also in a very bad mood. She was watching me intently while I was setting the presentation like I was her prey and she the predator waiting for the right time to attack me.

Without meeting her gaze, I sorted through my papers and placed a copy of the presentation on the table before us. "Are you ready for me to begin?"

She didn't say anything, her green cold eyes scanning me entirely making me even more nervous and honestly turning me on a little. Was she checking on me? I must be hallucinating because I'm pretty sure she hates me as much as I do.

"Go on" she finally said, her voice a little husky than usual. That caught my attention for a second but I quickly regained my focus and started the presentation.

As I moved through the different aspects of the proposal, she stayed silent, staring directly at her copy. Why was she so calm? Her temper tantrums I could handle. But the eerie silence? It was unnerving.

I was leaning over the table, gesturing toward a set of graphs, when it happened.

"Their timeline for the first milestone is a little ambi—" I stopped midsentence, my breath caught in my throat. Her hand pressed gently into my lower back before sliding down, settling on the curve of my ass. In the nine months I had worked for her, she had never intentionally touched me. And this was most definitely intentional.

The heat from her hand burned through my skirt and into my skin. Every muscle in my body tensed, and it felt like my insides were liquefying. What the hell was she doing? My brain screamed at me to push her hand off, to tell her to never touch me again, but my body had other ideas. My nipples hardened, and I clenched my jaw in response. Traitor nipples.

While my heart pounded in my chest, at least half a minute passed, and neither of us said anything as her hand moved down to my thigh, caressing. Our breathing and the muted noise of the city below were the only sounds in the still air of the conference room.

"What are you thinking?"She whispered seductively in my ear. She bitted my earlobe making me moan in response. My brain couldn't believe this was happening but my body certainly didn't care too much.

"Oh, I still trying to figure out believe me" I said with a hoarse voice. She chuckled at my obvious state of arousal and her fingers ran down my thigh, to the hem of my skirt. She moved it up so her fingertips traced the strap of my garter belt, the lace edge of one thigh-high stocking. A long finger slipped beneath the thin fabric and pulled it down slightly. I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling suddenly like I was melting from the outside in.

How could I let my body react like this? I still wanted to slap her, but now, more than that, I wanted her to keep going. The heavy ache between my legs was building. She reached the edge of my panties and slipped her fingers under the fabric. I felt her slide against my skin and graze my clit before pushing her finger inside me, and I bit my lip trying, unsuccessfully, to stifle my groan.

"Fuck," she growled quietly. "You're so wet for me." She said in a low satisfying voice. And then in one quick movement she tore off my panties, the rip of the fabric echoing in the silence. I should probably get mad at her for doing that or something but the only emotion my brainless mind could register right now was lust and the need to be fucked.

After saving in her pocket what was left of my very expensive lingerie, she turned me around, pulled my hips roughly and lifted me up onto the cold table. Sitting there I could finally appreciate the beauty of Amy Raudenfeld in all her glory. And boy she was beautiful with those rosy cheeks and green storming eyes full of lust and dirty promises. Before I could say anything at all she spread my legs in front of her and her fingers returned to action, sliding between my legs and pushing into me again.

I despised this woman in a singularly sharp way, but my body was betraying me; I craved more of what she was doing. Damn if she wasn't good at this. Hers weren't the gentle loving touches I was accustomed to. Here was a woman used to getting what she wanted, and it turned out that right now, what she wanted was me. My head fell to the side as I leaned back on my elbows, feeling my impending orgasm approaching fast.

To my absolute horror I actually whimpered, "Oh, please."

She stopped moving, pulling her fingers back, making me grunt in disagreement. I sat up, grabbing her by her neck and pulling her mouth roughly against mine. Her lips felt as perfect as they looked, firm and smooth. I'd never been kissed by someone who clearly knew every single angle and dip and teasing move to make me almost completely lose my mind.

I bit her lower lip as my hands ripped open her shirt revealing the most exquisite breast I've ever seen in my life. "You better be ready to finish what you started." I said in a seductive but threatening voice.

She smiled at me the cockiest grin ever and said

"Ask me to make you come" Her tone was all wrong. It was almost a question, but her words were just like her—all bitch. I did want her to make me come. More than anything. But I'd be damned if I'd ever ask her for anything.

I dropped my voice and stared back at her. "You're a bitch, Miss Raudenfeld."

Her smile told me that whatever she'd needed from me, she got. I wanted to slap her face so much, but then I wouldn't get more of what I really wanted.

"Say please, Miss Ashcroft."

"Please, go fuck yourself."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic Miss Ashcroft. Just tell me." She leaned forward, sucked my earlobe between her lips and then gave it a sharp bite. "I promise I'll give it to you."

"Please," I said, closing my eyes to shut out everything else and just feel her. "Please. Yes."

She then started to move her fingertips across my clit with the perfect pressure, the perfect rhythm. Not long after that warmth spread down my spine, around my hips, and between my legs. My entire body was trembling from the orgasm that was rushing over me, leaving me breathless. Meanwhile Miss Raudenfeld was doing wonders with her mouth, like sucking my neck, my jaw and lower lip, making me moan ever louder. She was amazingly good at this, too bad she just need it to open her devious little mouth and ruin everything.

"Now say thank you Miss Ashcroft and Make me feel good" she whispered in my ear. And there it was, the reason I hated her so much, that arrogance and superior attitude that make me cringe every time I hear her voice.

Suddenly I wasn't brainless anymore. I recovered what was left of my dignity, smiled at her sweetly and said "I've had better" and with that I pulled myself together and left the conference room, leaving my very unsatisfied boss behind me. I can be a bitch too Miss Raudenfeld.

 **A/N: Should I continue? English is not my first lenguage so I apoligize for any mistake**


	2. Chapter 2

Amy's POV

 _Screwed. I am so royally screwed_

I'd been awake almost thirty minutes now, staring at the ceiling like an idiot. Brain: a mess. Vagina: wet.

Well, wet _again_

I scowled at the ceiling. It didn't matter how many times I'd masturbate after she left me last night, it never seemed enough to satisfy myself. I've been waking up like this ever since I met her but this time was definitely the worst. This time I knew what I was missing and she hadn't even made me come. I was very close, just watching her while I was blowing her mind last night almost did the job.

It's been nine months, nine freaking months of morning wetness, masturbating and endless fantasies about someone I actually despised. But God, I wanted her. I wanted her more than any other women I've ever seen in my life and it was frustrating as hell because I also hated her and I was pretty positive she hated me too. I've never met anyone who can test my limits like Miss Karma Ashcroft does. Even the mention of her name makes me wet. I rubbed my hands across my face and sat up.

 _Why oh why did I have to ruin everything?_ Almost a year I've been holding myself with success. I kept my distance, bossed her around, treated her like shit, hell I've even been a fucking bitch with her for no particular reason. Only took one moment, just one freaking moment alone with her in a conference room, her smell intoxicating, her hazel eyes challenging me with every look, that fucking skirt and that ass in front of me. I lost it. I became a teenage girl dominate by hormones.

I thought that had her one time will do the trick. _Get her out of your system and you will be at peace Raudenfeld_ I said to myself. But here I was with a pool between my legs and an ache that apparently only she can take care of.

I took a long hot shower, cleaning myself thoroughly as if trying to erase every single trace of her from my skin. This needs to stop. I am Amy _freaking_ Raudenfeld. I was not going to let Miss Little Perfect make me act like a horny mess and I certainly didn't mix pleasure with work. The last thing I needed was a women with a princess complex to ruin everything I've ever work for. I couldn't allow her to have this control over me.

I was making my way into my office when she walked in. The way she left last night, practically sprinting out the door, I figured one of two scenarios awaited me. Either she would make heart eyes at me and think that hook up meant something (very unlikely) or she would have my ass serve to my father in a silver plate (more likely and also a very frightening scenario) but I didn't think she was capable of something like that. If I learned one thing about her these past few months, it was that she was trustworthy and loyal. She had worked for Raudenfeld Media Group since college and was a valued part of the company for a reason. Now she was only months from obtaining her MBA and would have her pick of jobs when she was ready. No way would she jeopardize that.

And of course she´ll have her own scenario planned, what was I thinking? She decided to ignore me completely, and that bother me more than I wanted to admit. She walked in wearing a knee-length trench coat. It shielded whatever was beneath, but did a fantastic job showing off those amazing legs.

 _And Oh God, she was wearing those shoes_ , that meant there was a very good chance that she was wearing… _that dress, that fucking dress_ _that drove me crazy._ She was doing this on purpose, to fucking tease me.

I glared at her as she hung her jacket in her closet and sat down at her desk. And like I expected, she was wearing the fucking red dress of my dreams and nightmares. With a neckline that dipped down to accentuate the soft smooth skin of her neck and collarbone, and red fabric clinging perfectly to those gorgeous tits, the dress was the bane of my existence, my heaven and hell wrapped in one delicious package.

The hem fell just below her knees and it was the sexiest thing I had ever seen. It wasn't provocative in any way, but there was something about the cut and that goddamn devilish red that had me wet practically all day. And she always left her auburn hair down when she wore it, making her even more breathtakingly beautiful.

 _God I hated her for wanting her so much._

When she still didn't acknowledge me, I turned and stormed into my office, slamming the door behind me. Why was she still affecting me this way? I'd never had anyone or anything distract me from work, and I hated her for being the first.

Work. That's it. I would focus on work and stop thinking about her in that dress and without that dress. I walked over to my desk and sat down trying to direct my attention to anything but thoughts of how amazing the feeling of her lips felt , the way she almost beg me to let her come and how beautiful she looked when she did, lustful hazel eyes, flushed cheeks and freshly fucked hair. _God, not helping Raudenfeld._

I flipped open my laptop to check my schedule for the day. My schedule . . . shit. She had the latest version in _her_ computer. No way in hell I going to ask her for anything right now, so I guess I'll be losing a couples of meetings this morning.

As I was going over a spreadsheet, a knock came at my door. "Come in," I called out. A white envelope was slammed down onto my desk. I looked up to see Miss Ashcroft staring down at me with a defiantly crooked eyebrow. Without an explanation, she turned and walked out of my office.

 _Oh shit that's not good._ I was pretty sure it was a letter explaining how she was going to sue my ass and ruin me for the rest of my days, but with Miss Ashcroft always expect, the unexpected. It was a sales receipt, a freaking sales receipt from an online clothing store… charged to the company credit card. I didn't quite know what to do for a second, to laugh of the whole deal or to fucking scream at her. Ultimately I decided the second choice was more suitable.

I shot up out of the chair and raced out of my office after her. She was headed for the stairwell. Good. We were on the eighteenth floor, and nobody, besides maybe the two of us, ever used the stairs. I could scream at her all I wanted and no one would be listening. Perfect.

The door closed with a heavy clang and her heels echoed their way down the stairs just in front of me

"Miss Ashcroft, where do you think you're going?" I said with the most menacing voice I could. Again she completely ignored me and continued walking without even looking at me.

"We're out of coffee" she hissed. "Since your treating me like your _office girl_ now I going downstairs to retrieve some" "God forbid you missing your caffeine fix" she said sarcastically.

I caught up to her on the landing between floors and grabbed her arm, pushing her against the wall. Her eyes narrowed contemptuously at me, her teeth clenched in a hiss. I whipped the receipt up in front of her face as I glared back at her. "What the hell is this?"

She shook her head "You know, for such a pompous know-it-all, you really are a stupid blonde sometimes" "It's a receipt"

"Oh I know exactly what it is" I growled through my teeth, crumpling the paper into my clenched fist. I took one step closer to her. I could feel her tense at my closeness and see her eyes dilating. I affected her the same way she affected me. Good.

"What I don't know is who the hell you think you are! Buying lingerie with the company credit card?" "Really Miss Ashcroft?" I asked her rhetorically. "Are you trying to get yourself fire?" "Because believe that can be arrange very quickly" I said coldly.

She shrugged her shoulders and then leaned her face closer to me and whispered, "Some bitch tore _my panties"._ And _fuck,_ with that all my willpower went straight to hell.

I took a deep breath through my nose and threw the paper to the floor, leaning forward and pressing my lips against hers and digging my fingers into her hair, pinning her body against the wall. I could feel myself get wet as I felt her hand mirror my own and grip my hair, fisting it roughly.

I pulled her dress up along her thighs and moaned into her mouth as my fingers once again found the lace edge of her thigh highs. She did this to fucking torture me, she _had_ to. I felt her tongue run over my lips as my fingertips brushed the warm and wet material of her panties. I clenched my hold around the fabric and gave it a rough tug.

"Sorry princess, you will have to order another pair" I said not feeling sorry at all and then pressed my tongue between her lips and into her mouth.

She groaned deeply as I thrust two fingers inside of her, and if it was possible, she was even wetter than she'd been last night. Seriously fucked-up situation we have going on here. She broke away from my lips with a gasp as I fucked her hard with my fingers, my thumb rubbing vigorous circles on her clit.

"Harder" she said hoarsely. "Faster. Now"

I narrowed my eyes at her, trying to hide the effect her words had on me.

"Say please, Miss Ashcroft."

 _"_ _Now,"_ she said more urgently,

"Someone's bossy" I said teasing her. She gave me a glare that let me know it was best not to mess with her right now so I delivered and she graced me with the most satisfying moans I've ever heard. Any moment someone could enter the stairwell and catch me fucking her, and I couldn't care less.

"Close," she growled "So fucking close"

And that's when I stopped fucking her entirely. She gaped at me, her look thunderous. The stairwell filled with a leaden silence.

"Seriously?" she said, exhaling loudly. Her head fell back against the wall with a dull thud.

"Seriously" I said smiling triumphantly.

She stared at me in disbelief and said hatefully "You're a bitch"

"Oh, I know", but you know what they said sweetheart "Karma is a bitch" I said amused and smiled sweetly at her, the same smile she gave me yesterday when she left me with a major case of blue balls.

This time I was the one who left, leaving her totally horny, frustrated as hell and without underwear. _Now we're even Miss Ashcroft._


	3. Chapter 3

Karma's POV

 _What the hell happened?_ _Did I just let my boss fuck me on the stairs? Did I lose my freaking mind?_ Oh My God, someone could have seen us and I didn't even care. _What the hell was wrong with me?_

Dazed, I stumbled away from the wall and ran out from there to the closest restroom I could find. I did a quick check under all the stalls to make sure they were empty and then turned the lock on the main door. As I approached the bathroom mirror, I winced. And damn I looked like shit.

My hair was a mess, my lips were swollen, my makeup smudged; my dress was stretched out and practically hanging on me, and I was once again missing my panties and probably my dignity as well.

 _Son. Of. A. Bitch._ That was the second pair. What she was doing with them anyway? Collecting them or something? What a sick pervert, they were probably laying in a drawer in her office. Ugh I can't believe I let her do this to me again and the worst part? The bitch didn't make me come, she fucking left me hanging there like a complete idiot, but I guess I deserved that. God what was I thinking? Answer: I wasn't. I really wasn't.

When I came in this morning, I'd had a plan. I was going to ignore her, throw that stupid receipt on her face and tell her to fuck off. But then she looked so goddamn sexy in that Prada suit and her hair screamed "Fuck me" and just lost all coherent thought. I know, Pathetic. What was it with her that made my brain turn off and my panties turn on fire? I never had such a primal respond with anyone ever.

This was not good. How I was supposed to work with her if I can't stop imagining her naked? Well not naked, I hadn't seen her completely undressed yet, but what I had seen… _Damn,_ she's a goddess on earth.

Did I just say "yet"? No freaking way, this has to stop, immediately. I needed to quit, that was the only option, but I hated the idea because I loved my job and although Miss Raudenfeld might be the world's most epic evil witch there is, she was in fact extremely good at her job, even though I didn't always love her methods, she gets the job done in no time. She really was a genius in the marketing world and I was learning so much from her this past few months. Putting the last twenty-four hours aside, I had her figured out and could handle her like no other. And as much as I hated to admit it, I loved watching her work, _and watching her_ , _of course._ Shut up brain you're not helping my case here.

The biggest issue was my scholarship. I needed to present my in-world experience to the JT Miller scholarship board before I completed my MBA, and I wanted my thesis to be a powerhouse. It's why I stayed on at RMG: Amy Raudenfeld offered me the Booker account—the marketing plan for the multibillionaire land developer—which was a bigger project than anything my peers were working on. Four months wasn't enough to start somewhere new and have anything good to show for it . . . was.

So leaving was definitely out of the question. I needed a plan and lucky for me I'd always been a planner. I had to remain professional, that meant _No More Sex_ , even if this was the most hottest and intense sex I'd ever had in my life… even when she was withholding orgasms from me. _Witch._

I was a strong, independent woman. I had a career to build and had worked ridiculous hours to get where I was. My mind and body were not ruled by lust. I just needed to remember what a controlling, arrogant and unnerving bitch she was. Oh, and of course let's not forget her superiority complex, she assumed everyone around her was a mindless idiot.

I smiled at myself in the mirror and reeled through a collection of my recent Amy Raudenfeld memories. " _Miss Ashcroft if I wanted my coffee to tasted like mud I would have scooped my mug through the garden soil this morning", "Did that keyboard did something to you Miss Ashcroft? Because I can hear you over here and is annoying me, please shut the door", "Is there a valid reason it's taking you forever to take those contracts to legal?_ _Does daydreaming about farm boys take up all your time?"_

Hell, actually, this would be easier than I thought.

Feeling a new sense of determination, I straightened my dress, smoothed my hair, and marched pantiless and confident out of the bathroom. I quickly retrieved the coffee I was after and headed back to my office, making sure to avoid the stairs.

I opened the outer office door and stepped in. The door to Miss Raudenfeld's office was shut, and there was no noise coming from inside. Maybe she stepped out. _Yeah, sure like I could get so lucky_. I pulled open my drawer and removed my cosmetic bag, fixing my makeup before getting back to work. The last thing I wanted to do was face her, but if I didn't plan on quitting, it would have to be done eventually.

When I looked through the calendar, I remembered she had a presentation before the other executives on Monday. I grimaced when I realized this meant I would have to talk to her today to prepare materials. She also had a convention in San Diego next month, which meant I would have to be not only in the same hotel as her, but in the plane, the company car, and any meetings that came up as well. No, no awkwardness there at all.

For the next hour, I found myself glancing up at her door. And each time I did, my stomach began to flutter. This was ridiculous! What was wrong with me? I shut the file I was unsuccessfully reading and dropped my head into my hands just as I heard her door open.

Miss Raudenfeld walked out, not meeting my eyes; she had her briefcase in hand. "I'm leaving for the rest of the day" she said, eerily calm. "Cancel my appointments and make any necessary adjustment"

"Miss Raudenfeld," I said, bringing her to a stop, her hand resting on the door. "Please don't forget you have a presentation to the executive committee on Monday at ten." I spoke to her back. She stood still as a statue. "If you like, I can have the spreadsheets, portfolios, and slide materials set up in the conference room by nine thirty."

I was so enjoying this right now. Everything about her posture screamed _uncomfortable_. "Sure" she said in a very inaudible voice and started to make her way out of the door when I stopped her again.

"And Miss Raudenfeld?" I added sweetly, "I need your signature on these expense reports before you leave." Her shoulders dropped and she exhaled tiredly. She was losing her patience. _Good_. She made her way to my desk, still avoiding my eyes as she leaned over and flipped through the forms to the Sign Here tabs.

I placed a pen on the desk. "Please sign where the tabs are, Miss"

She hated being told what to do what she was already doing, and I stifled a laugh. Snatching the pen from me, she slowly raised her face, meeting her stormy green eyes with my hazel ones. Our eyes locked intently for what seemed like minutes, neither looking away. For a moment I had the irresistible urge of lean in, bite that bottom lip of hers and fuck her senseless and for the look I was receiving from her she was thinking something similar as well.

"Don't forward my calls," she spat out, quickly signing the last form and tossing the pen onto my desk. "If there's an emergency, contact Lauren."

"Bitch" I murmured to myself as I watched her disappear.

To say my weekend sucked was an understatement. I hardly ate, I hardly slept, and what little sleep I did get was interrupted by fantasies of my boss naked above me, beneath me, behind me. I almost wished for the return of classes just so I had something to distract me.

Saturday morning I awoke frustrated and crabby but managed to somehow get myself together and take care of housework and grocery shopping. Sunday morning, however, I was not so lucky. I woke with a start, panting and trembling, my body sweaty and twisted in a mass of cotton sheets. The dream I had was so intense it had actually brought me to orgasm. In the dream we were both naked on the conference room's table, she was on her back and I was straddling her, my body sliding back and forth. She was touching, kissing, tasting and biting everywhere: my face, down my neck, my breast… and then our eyes met, green with hazels ones and I lost it. I broke into million pieces.

"Shit" I groaned as I pulled myself out of bed. This was getting worse by the second. How the hell this happened? One minute I hated her guts and the next one I was letting her fuck me on a table and _against a wall…_ and I actually _liked it._

I started the shower, and as I waited for the water to warm, my thoughts began to drift again. I wanted to see her eyes looking up from between my legs, wanted to see her expression as I savored her cunt and I ached to hear the sound of her voice saying my name when she came on my mouth.

Fantasizing with her that way was trouble. She was trouble, a very sexy trouble and a successful executive with nothing to lose. Me on the other hand was just her intern. Collateral damage. I had everything to lose, everything I'd ever work for gone if someone finds out whatever the hell this is. So yeah, thinking about her was dangerous and it needed to stop ASAP. How to do that? No fucking idea.

I showered and dressed quickly to meet Zita and Shane for brunch. Zita and I got to see each other every day at work, but Shane, my best friend since middle school, was tougher to nail down. He was a buyer for Gucci and dutifully filled my closet with samples and overstock. Thanks to him and him discount, I owned some of the most beautiful clothes money could buy. I still paid a pretty penny for them, but it was worth it. I made decent money at Raudenfeld Media, and my scholarship covered all of my school costs, but even I couldn't spend nineteen hundred dollars on a dress and not want to off myself.

I'd sometimes wondered if Hank paid me so well because he knew I was the only one who could handle her daughter. Oh, if only he knew.

I decided to keep quiet about what was happening with Miss Raudenfeld. Hell I didn't even know myself what was happening with her. Zita worked for Lauren Cooper, Miss Raudenfeld's step-sister and saw Amy around the building all the time; I wasn't going to ask her to keep that kind of secret. Shane on the other hand would kick my ass. For almost a year he'd listened to me complain about what a major evil bitch Miss Raudenfeld was to me, he would not be happy to find out that we were screwing.

Two hours later I was sitting with my two best friends, drinking mimosas on the patio of our favorite restaurant, talking about men, women and clothes and work. Shane had surprised me with a dress made from the most sumptuous fabric I'd ever felt. It sat in a garment bag slung over the chair next to me.

"So how's work going?" Shane asked between bites of her melon. "The lady dragon still giving you a hard time, Karma?"

"Oh, the Ice Queen aka Beautiful Bitch." Zita sighed, and I carefully studied the condensation on my champagne flute. She popped a grape into her mouth and spoke around it. "God, you should see her, Shane. It's the most perfect nickname I've ever heard. She is a goddess. And I mean that. There is nothing wrong with her physically. Perfect face, body, hair and those eyes… I'm not even a lesbian and I think she's hot."

"But she really is awful" Zita continued, growing serious. "I mean, I wanted to punch her in the face within the first fifteen minutes of meeting her." "She is evil and I talking "The devil wears Prada" kind of evil". "And she doesn't have a soft spot like Miranda in the movie, she is the devil."

"What is her problem?" Shane asked, curiosity sparkling in his eyes. Shane loved the drama.

"Mommy issues" I said in unison with Zita. "Her mother never fully accepted her for who she was" continued Zita, her voice laced with pity.

"Yeah, her mother sees her stepsister Lauren like the daughter she never had, is pretty sad actually" replied Karma feeling sorry for her boss for a minute.

"Well maybe, she acting bitchy all the time is some sort of defense mechanism." "Like she's bitter and feels like she has to work harder to prove her mother she is good enough" reasoned Shane.

I snorted. "There isn't a deep reason. She thinks everyone should care as much and work as hard as she does and most people don't. It pisses her off."

"Are you defending her Karma?" Zita asked with a surprise grin.

"Of course, _not"_ I replied annoyed. I wasn't defending her right? Right?

I noticed Shane's brownish eyes were trained on me and had narrowed in silent accusation. I'd done my share of complaining about my boss in the past several months, but maybe I'd never mentioned that she was gorgeous?

"What are you hiding from me Karms? Is your boss a hot babe? Shane asked.

"She is gorgeous, but her personality ruins everything for her." I tried to be as nonchalant as I could. Shane had a way of reading every thought I had.

"Well," he said, shrugging her shoulders and taking a long sip of his drink, "maybe she's pissed off because she's not getting laid"

I tipped back my champagne flute as my two friends howled in fits of laughter.

Monday morning, I was a bundle of nerves as I made my way into the building. I'd made my decision: I wasn't going to sacrifice my job because of our lack of judgment. I wanted to finish this position with a stellar presentation for the scholarship board and then leave and start my career. No more sex, no more fantasizing. I could easily work—business only—with Miss Raudenfeld for another few months.

Feeling the need for a boost of confidence, I wore the new dress Shane had given me. It hugged my curves without looking too provocative. But my secret confidence weapon was my underwear. I'd always had a thing for expensive lingerie, and early on had learned where to hunt for the best sales. Wearing something sexy under my clothes was empowering, and the pair I had on would most certainly do the trick. They were black silk in front, embellished with embroidery, and the back consisted of a series of delicate tulle ribbons, crisscrossing to meet in the center near my tailbone with a dainty black bow. With each step, the fabric of my dress caressed my bare skin. I could take whatever Miss Raudenfeld had to say today, and I could dish it right back to her.

I'd arrived early to have time to prepare for the presentation. It wasn't strictly my job, but Miss Raudenfeld refused to have a dedicated assistant, and when left to her own devices, she was a disaster at making meetings pleasant: no coffee, no pastries, just a room full of people, pristine slides and handouts, and, as always, endless work.

The lobby was empty; the wide space opened three stories up and gleamed with polished granite flooring and travertine walls. As the elevator doors closed behind me, I gave myself a mental pep talk, recounting all the arguments we'd had and the jackass comments she'd made.

 _"_ _Type, don't write anything longhand. Your handwriting looks like a third grader's, Miss Ashcroft."_

 _"_ _If I wanted to enjoy your entire conversation with your graduate advisor, I'd leave my office door open and get some popcorn. Please, keep your voice down."_

I could do this. That bitch had picked the wrong woman to mess with, and I'd be damned if I would let her intimidate me. I lowered my hand to my ass and smiled wickedly . . . power panties.

As I expected, the office was still empty when I arrived. I gathered everything she would need for her presentation and headed to the conference room to set up.

Glancing around the sun-filled room, I set the files and laptop on the large conference table and helped the catering staff set up the breakfast spread along the back wall.

Twenty minutes later the proposals were set out, the projector was prepared, and refreshments were ready. With time to spare I found myself wandering over to the table. Memories of that night were still burning in my mind.

 _"_ _Ask me to make you come."_

I closed my eyes and let the power of the memories overtake me for a moment.

I was startled from my fantasy by a throat clearing behind me. "Daydreaming on the clock?"

"Miss Raudenfeld," I gasped, spinning around. Our eyes locked and I was once again struck by how beautiful she was. She broke eye contact to survey the room.

"Miss Ashcroft," she said, each word sharp and clipped. "The presentation is on the fourth floor"

"Excuse me?" I asked, irritation flooding me. "Why? We always use this room. And why did you wait until the last minute to tell me?"

"Because," she said with a condescending smile on her face, "I'm your boss and I said so sweetheart" You had a problem with that Miss Ashcroft? She asked defiantly.

My mind flooded with white-hot images of my fist connecting with her throat. It took every bit of control I had not to jump across the table and strangle her. A smug smile crept over her face.

"Fine by me," I said, swallowing my annoyance. "No good decisions are ever made in this room anyway."

When I turned the corner into the new conference room, my eyes immediately met Miss Raudenfeld's. Sitting in her chair, her hands predictably tented in front of her, she was the portrait of barely contained patience. Typical.

Then I noticed the person beside me: Hank Raudenfeld

"Here, let me help you with that, Karma," he said, taking a stack of folders from my arms so I could more easily maneuver the cart full of food into the room.

"Thank you, Mr. Raudenfeld." I shot a pointed look at my boss.

"Karma," Mr. Raudenfeld said, laughing. He took some handouts and sent the stack around the table for the attendees to take. "How many times do I need to tell you to call me Hank?"

I smiled gratefully at him as I sat down. "How is Susan doing?"

"She's doing fine. She keeps bugging me about having you over," he added with a wink. Susan was Hank's new wife. He divorced Amy's mom, I mean Miss Raudenfeld's mom a couple of years ago but they were still friends. Her mother married Lauren's father two years after that.

"Please tell her hi from me."

"I'll sure do" said Mr. Raudenfeld smiling at me kindly. The last one in arrive was Lauren Cooper. She looked a little annoyed and flustered, probably because the change of plans.

Sorry I'm late, guys. I guess I thought we were meeting up on your floor." She glared at her sister in disapproval. Miss Raudenfeld just rolled her eyes at her and ignored her.

I chanced a smug look out of the corner of my eye, meeting my boss' gaze. The stack of handouts came back to me and I handed a copy to her. "Here you are, Miss Raudenfeld."

Without so much as a glance, she snatched the stack and began leafing through them.

 _Witch_

Just as I was taking my seat, Lauren's high-pitch voice called out "Karma, I found these on the floor of the conference room" I walked over to her and saw two buttons sitting on her palm. I immediately recognize those buttons and knew who the owner was. A smug smile forming on my face. "Would you ask around and see if anyone's lost these? They look kind of expensive."

"I think I'd seen these buttons somewhere before" I said pensive. "Hmm, Miss Raudenfeld, don't you have a shirt with these types of buttons? I said taking her by surprise. A look of panic flickered on her eyes for a few seconds but soon was replaced with cold indifference.

"No," she said, trying to sound as disinterested as possible. "I don´t"

"Are you sure? Because I could have sworn you wore a shirt with similar buttons the other day" I said sweetly.

"Yes, I sure Miss Ashcroft, you probably need some glasses" she said sharply, her green eyes colder than ever.

"Oh my mistake, sorry Miss Raudenfeld" I said feigning repentance. She gave me a look that made my bones tremble. She was mad and I was going to pay for this later.

Throughout the meeting we cast glances at each other, mine were sweet and caring and hers were fueled with anger. She looked down at the spreadsheets in front of her as much as possible to avoid looking at me.

As soon as it was all over, she gathered her things and got the hell out of there. I followed her all the way to the elevator. It was empty, just the two of us. She was lying by the wall of the elevator. Eyes closed and arms crossed in a defensive posture. I was in front of her expecting to be yelled or punch or whatever but she just ignored me completely. A few minutes passed, the air became tighter, and I could feel the tension building, that magnetic pull between us.

"You know Miss Ashcroft I'd never thought you be that kind of women" she said, her voice steely, her eyes still closed.

What kind of women? I asked curious.

"The kind that likes to ruin someone's reputation just because she didn't get what she wanted" she replied, anger tinting her voice. She finally opened her eyes, her look cold as the arctic.

"Now, look who is been dramatic, huh" I said ironically. "Nobody was paying attention, relax" I said dismissively.

"You think you're the only one who can lose everything?" "You don't have a fucking idea of how much I worked to be where I am now.""That little stunt you pull back there? That could have seriously hurt my career" she screamed at me, leaving me momentarily speechless. I've never seen her like that, totally enraged. She was always so in control of her emotions. I decided it was best to apologize.

"I'm sorry, ok? I went too far". I apologized sincerely. She took a big breath to calm herself I assumed and then she moved past me and went directly to the control panel of the elevator. She pushed a red bottom and the elevator stopped moving completely.

"What are you doing?" I asked alarmed. Was she planning to kill me? Because, it sure looked that way. Then she started to walk slowly towards me like a predator stalking her prey, until I was completely cornered against the elevator's wall. Her eyes were dark green and lustful, and her breathing was becoming a little erratic. I could feel myself getting unbearably hot by the second. Her closeness was affecting my body in ways I never thought possible.

"Sorry is not enough, Miss Ashcroft" she said hoarsely, her lips at inches of mine. She grabbed my hand and tucked it into her pants. She made me touch her. She made me feel how soaking wet she was because of me. And that turned me on a lot.

"I need that pretty devious mouth of yours on me. _Now_ " she demanded seductively. She didn't need to ask me twice, I was more than happy to do it. I've been fantasizing about it all weekend.

"Ok, I'll do it". "But after this we're done" I said, my voice a little husky. Her eyes told me she didn't believe me and to be honest I didn't either. This thing between us was an addiction.

"Agreed". "Now get to work, Miss Ashcroft." She whispered in my ear.

I slowly started to remove her pants just to tease her a little. She noticed and groaned at me in response making me smile mischievously. She was eager for me and that gave me satisfaction. Next stop were her panties. _Nice Raudenfeld seems I'm not the only one who likes expensive lingerie, too bad I going to destroy them._ I tore them apart, just like she did with mine and left them lying on the floor.

"Hurry the hell up" she growled at me, her voice raspy.

"Bossy much?" I said teasing her. She looked at me frustrated and I winked at her just to annoy her. Although I loved to push her bottoms, I was in fact eager to taste her, so I did. And I took my time doing it.

I explored every inch of her pussy thoroughly. I bit, licked and savored her cunt like the forbidden fruit that it was. For the moans I was hearing and the way she was grabbing my hair, I was doing a great job apparently. She came hard on my mouth after a few minutes of torturing her clit with my tongue. Her cheeks flushed, her breathing erratic and her eyes the darkest green I've ever seen. Mission Accomplished.

"That was… Wow" she said breathless. She was still recovering from the mind blowing orgasm I just gave her. I smiled smugly at her reaction. I was feeling quite powerful actually and totally turned on but I wasn't expecting for her to return the favor.

"I know" I said proudly and smiled at her triumphant. "And this" I said grabbing her ripped underwear from the floor, my war trophy "Is Mine Now."


	4. Chapter 4

Amy's POV

Confused. That's the way I was feeling while I was heading to my office after what happened in the elevator with her. Numb was another word to describe my state of mind and definitely scared as shit was another one. Being alone with her in that tiny steel prison—her smell, her sounds, her skin—made my self-control evaporate. I was unraveling. This woman had a hold on me unlike anything I'd ever experienced. She made me feel things, things I haven't felt in quite some time.

I was going to yell at her, even fired her for almost expose me in front of the evil stepsister from hell, instead I ended up being eating by her on the elevator in the middle of the day. Jesus, I fucking ordered her to do it. _Good job at keeping things professional Amy, you really are a freaking genius._ Things were going from messy to even messier.

Finally in the relative safety of my office, I collapsed on the leather sofa. I'd known from the minute she reminded me of the morning's meeting that there was no way in hell I could form one coherent thought, let alone give an entire presentation in that fucking conference room. And forget sitting at that table. Walking in there to find her, staring at that table, deep in thought, was enough to made me wet again. That angered me, what was it with her that she had that kind of effect on me, it was frustrating as hell. My actions have been always ruled by reason and logic, but lately it seems like both are on vacation and my vagina took charge in their absence.

I told her that the meeting was in another floor and of course she freaked out on me. Why did she always have to antagonize me? I made a point of reminding her of who was in charge. She let it go, but not before making a snarky comment about "Not making right decisions in that conference room anyway" or something along the lines. She was most definitely right about that.

A knock at my door brought me back to reality. "Come in" I said hoping that it wasn't Miss Ashcroft at the other side of my door. I needed a break from her, to stop thinking about her for a damn minute but it seemed impossible. Memories about what happened with her earlier were still bothering me. How she almost fucked me over with Lauren, her puppy eyes when she apologized after I yelled at her and the way her lips tasted my cunt, with such hunger that drove me crazy with need. _God, enough Amy, you fucking need to control yourself._

"Amy" my dad said, walking briskly into my office. "Great job in there. Lauren and I just spoke with Dorothy and Troy and they were very…" He stopped and stared at me for a moment.

"Amy, dear, are you okay? He asked worriedly.

"Of course I'm okay" I replied a little bit nervous. Did he notice something? God, I hope not.

"You seem a little bit…" Dad said, walking to me and putting his hand on my forehead. "Hot"

"I'm fine Dad, is nothing to worry about" I assured him sweetly. He looked at me unconvinced but for my luck he didn't push any further on the subject.

"Ok… if you say so" he replied skeptical. "By the way I gave Karma the day off, I hope you don't mind" he said dismissively. That caught my attention immediately.

"Why? I was expecting to finish Harvey today Dad" I said annoyed. He glared at me disapprovingly.

"She seemed a little bit off herself, so I told her to go home" he explained patiently.

"Oh poor Miss Ashcroft, I sure hope she's okay" I said feigning concern. I was a little bit worried but he didn't need to know that.

"You should cut that girl some slack Amy" he said reproachfully. "You're lucky to have her, you know"

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "If her personality were as appealing as her PowerPoint skills, we wouldn't have a problem."

He cut me off with a glare. "Your mother called and told me to remind you about dinner tonight at her house. Theo and Lauren are going too"

"Yay. How fun" I replied, obvious sarcasm in my voice.

"Amy…" he said, more like pleaded. "She's trying, give her a chance"

"She didn't give me one, why should I?" I asked coldly. I avoided my father's eyes. I didn't want him to know how much still hurt. He could always see right through me with just one look to my eyes.

"Because you're better than her" he answered and smiled sweetly at me. That smile had always won me over and the bastard knows it.

"Fine, I'll be there" I said surrendered.

He made his way over to the door, stopping to look back at me. "Don't be late."

"I won't. Christ!" He knew as well as anyone that I don't show up late for anything, even something as simple as a family dinner.

As hard as I tried, I couldn't focus on a damn thing all day. Even after a vigorous lunchtime run, I still couldn't get my mind past the morning's events. By three, I knew I had to get out of there. I reached the elevator and groaned slightly, opting for the stairs and then realizing that was an even worse mistake. I sprinted down eighteen flights.

Pulling up to my mother's house later that evening, I felt all the tension from the day increase even more. Being in this house again brought me good and bad memories, mostly bad ones. My relationship with my mother was never ideal, I was always trying to get her approval but her standards were almost impossible high to reach, and when she found out that her little princess was in fact a lesbian, I knew I was done. I stopped trying to be someone she wanted me to be and started to be the person I really was. Of course she didn't like that, living in her house became unbearable so I left, and not long after that my Dad too. He couldn't forgive my mother for the way she treated me.

A few years passed and she reached out to me, asked for my forgiveness, she wanted a fresh start. She told me she remarried and wanted me to meet her new family, Bruce and Lauren. And I did. They were the perfect southern family my mom always wanted to have. It was really disgusting to watch. She wanted me to feel included but that never happened. I was an outsider.

"Amy, you came" my mom sang as I stepped to the room, her eyes glistening with hope. She's been inviting me to dinner ever since we started talking again. I don't come often. I haven't yet completely forgiven her. She knows that, so she tries to maintain a friendly distance from me.

"Where are Lauren and Theo?" I asked her, looking out towards the living room.

"They're not here yet" answered Bruce as he walked in. Lauren was bad enough, but you throw in her husband and daughter in the mix and they were lucky to even make it out of the house at all. I walked to the bar outside and made myself a dry martini. Alcohol would definitely help me release the tension I was holding.

Twenty minutes later, the sounds of chaos came from the foyer, and I stepped in to meet them. A small, unstable body with a toothy grin hurled itself at my knees. "Amy!" the little girl squealed. It was Sophia, Lauren's daughter. She was the sweetest kid I'd ever know and the exact opposite of her mother. _Thank god for that._

I snatched Sofia up and smothered her cheeks with kisses.

"God, you're pathetic," Lauren groaned as she walked past me.

"Shut up"

Sofia was the first grandchild and the princess of the family. Tonight she preferred to sit on my lap during dinner and I tried to eat around her, doing my best to avoid her "help." She definitely had me completely wrapped around her finger.

"Amy, I've been meaning to ask you something," Lauren began, handing me the bottle of wine. I served myself a glass and started to drink. "Is Karma single?"

I almost spit my wine in response. I wasn't expecting that question. Maybe she knows something is up between us. _Damn it_

"I don't know, I don't usually speak with my employees about their love life" I replied professionally.

She rolled her eyes at me in annoyance. "Would you ask her for me? I have someone who is dying to meet her" she said smirking at me. Ok she definitely knows something or at least she suspects it.

My fork froze in midair as those words sank in. Lauren wanted to set her up with someone? I felt something constrict in my chest, but I wasn't sure what it was. If I had to put a name on it, I'd call it . . . anger?

Why would I be angry that Lauren wanted to set her up? _Probably because you're sleeping with her, genius._ Well more like fucking her. Or fucked her. "Fucking her" implies I going to continue doing her and that is not going to happen ever again. _Yeah sure, you keep telling yourself that._

I pressed my hands to my face. "Fine. I'll talk to her. But don't get your hopes up. She's about as charm-free as they come, so that's a hard deal to close."

"You know, you're probably the only person that doesn't get along with her in the office" said Lauren eyeing me suspiciously. "Why is that?

"I don't like her, that's all" I replied dismissively. Lauren's face told me she wasn't buying it but she didn't push any further on the topic.

The rest of the night consisted of more talk about how I needed to try and be nicer to Miss Ashcroft ,how much she would like this mystery men Lauren wanted her to meet and of course that I should convince her to come to dinner next week to meet this amazing men.

The thought of her meeting this person made me sick to my stomach but I left with the promise I would do my best to convince her to come, although to be honest I didn't even know when I would see her in the next few days. I had meetings and appointments all over the city, and I doubted that in those brief moments I was actually in the office I would have much good to say.

Glaring out the window as we crawled down South Michigan Avenue the next afternoon, I wondered if my day would ever improve. I hated sitting in traffic. The office was only a few blocks away, and I was seriously considering just having the driver take the car back and getting out and walking. It was already after four, and we'd managed to travel only three blocks in twenty minutes. Perfect. Closing my eyes, I rested my head on the seat and recalled the meeting I had just left.

Nothing in particular had gone wrong; in fact, quite the opposite. The clients had been thrilled with our proposals, and everything had gone off without a hitch. I just couldn't shake my horrible mood.

Lauren had made a point of telling me every fifteen minutes of the last three hours that I was behaving like a moody teenager, and by the time the contracts were signed, I wanted to beat the shit out of her. Every chance she got she asked what the hell my problem was, and frankly, I couldn't say I blamed her. Even I had to admit I'd been a bitch the last couple of days. And for me, that was saying something. Of course Lauren declared as he left to head home that my problem was I needed to get laid.

If she only knew

It had been one day. Just one day since the event in the elevator left me mind-blown and with an itching desire to touch every inch of her skin. I haven't touched her in two fucking days and that was making me behave like a freaking lunatic.

The car stopped again and I thought I would scream. My driver lowered the separator between the front and back seats, tossing me an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Miss Raudenfeld. I'm sure you're going crazy back there. We're only four blocks away; would you rather walk?" Glancing out the tinted windows, I noticed we'd stopped right across the street from La Perla. "I can pull over just-"

I was out of the car before he had a chance to finish his sentence.

I stepped into the store and stopped in front of a long table covered with frilly lingerie. The floors were a warm honey wood, the ceilings littered with long cylindrical light fixtures, clustered into groups throughout the large room. The dim lighting cast the entire space in a soft intimate glow, illuminating the tables and racks of expensive lingerie. Something about the delicate lace and satin brought on that all-too-familiar desire for her.

Running my fingers along a table set near the front of the store, I became aware that I had already garnered the attention of the sales staff. A tall blonde walked toward me.

"Welcome to La Perla," she said, looking me up and down like a lion eyeing a steak. "Is there something I can help you find today? Maybe something for you? Or your girlfriend perhaps?" she added, a hint of flirtation in her voice.

"No, thank you," I answered sweetly. "I'm just looking."

"Well, if you change your mind, let me know," she said with a wink, before turning and making her way back to the sales counter. A beautiful woman just flirted with me and it didn't even occur to me ask for her number or flirt back. Seriously, what the hell was going on with me?

I was just about to turn and leave when something caught my eye. I let my fingers run across the black lace garter belt hanging on a rack. It made me remember about a meeting we had our first month working together. She had crossed her legs beneath the table and shifted in just the right way that her skirt rode up, revealing the delicate white strap attached to her stockings. It was the first time I'd seen evidence of her penchant for lingerie, but it wasn't the first time I had spend the lunch hour daydreaming about her.

"See something you like?"

I turned, startled to hear a familiar voice behind me.

 _Shit._

Miss Ashcroft.

But I'd never really seen her like this before. She looked stylish as always, but completely casual. She was wearing dark fitted jeans and a red tank top. Her hair was in a sexy ponytail, and without makeup or the glasses she sometimes wore around the office, she didn't look much older than twenty.

"What are you doing here Miss Raudenfeld?" She asked sweetly, her fake smile slipping from her face.

"How is that any of your business?"I asked rhetorically

"Just curious. Are you buying something to replace the panties I tore apart a couples of days ago or just doing a little stalking?" she asked, a mischievously smile on her face.

"Stalking? Don't flatter yourself so much Miss Ashcroft" I said with a condescending voice. "And I can ask you the same to you"

"Just doing some shopping" she replied. "Stalking is not my thing"

"Shopping, huh? Aren't you supposed to be in the office working, Miss Ashcroft?" I reproached.

She rolled her eyes. "I've been working for you for almost a year, so you'd think you'd remember that I check in with my advisor every other week. Maybe you should put an ankle bracelet on me, you know, to improve your stalking techniques? Though, hey, you managed to find me here without one."

I glared at her, struggling to find something to say. "You're always so fucking pissy with me."

"I guess you just bring out the best in me," she said loudly enough for everyone to hear it. She was leaning forward, her chest nearly touching mine. The tension between us was palpable. Looking around, I noticed we were drawing attention from the other people in the store.

Look," I said, trying to compose myself. "How about you calm down, lower your voice and we talk like normal people in some other place." I knew I had to get out of here soon, before something happened. For some sick reason, fighting with this woman always ended with her panties in my pocket.

"Come with me," she said, and grabbed hold of my arm, dragging me to the back of the store. She pulled me around a corner and into a dressing room. She had obviously been here awhile; there were piles of lingerie on the chairs and hangers full of unidentifiable scraps of lace.

Closing the large mirrored door opposite a silk-covered chaise, she stood with her eyes locked on mine. "You really expect me to believe that you didn't follow me here?"

"Did you take your meds today Miss Ashcroft? You really need them honey, your paranoia is getting worse" I said faking concern.

"You know, it's a good thing you've got those magic fingers to make up for that mouth of yours."

I found myself leaning forward, whispering, "I'm pretty sure you'd be thrilled with my mouth too."

Suddenly everything felt too intense, too loud, and too vivid. Her chest was heaving, and her gaze shifted to my mouth as she bit her bottom lip. She wanted me and I wanted her. She grabbed me by the neck roughly and pulled me to her. I opened my mouth, feeling her soft tongue press forward.

I couldn't pull back now, and slid one hand to her jaw and the other up to her hair. I removed the clip holding her ponytail and soft waves fell around my hand.

I fisted the mass tightly, jerking her head to better accommodate my mouth. I needed more. I needed all of her. She moaned and I pulled it tighter. "You like that."

"God, yes."

At that moment, hearing those words, I didn't care about anything else: where we were, who we were, or how we felt about each other. Never in my life had I felt such raw chemistry with anyone. When we were together like this, nothing else mattered.

My hands ran down her sides and I gripped the hem of her shirt, bringing it up and over her head, breaking our kiss for only a second. Not to be left behind, she pushed my jacket from my shoulders and it dropped to the floor.

My thumbs ran circles across her skin as I moved my hands to the waist of her jeans. Quickly undone, they fell to the floor, and she kicked them off along with her sandals. I kissed down her neck and shoulders.

"Damn, you're so beautiful" I growled. Looking up I could see her perfect body reflected back at me in the full-length mirror. I had fantasized about her undressed more times than I could probably admit, but reality, in daylight, was better. So much better. She was wearing sheer black panties that only covered half her ass, and a matching bra, her silky hair spilling down across her back. The muscles in her long, toned legs flexed as she pushed up on her toes to reach my neck.

A thrill shot through me as my hands moved around her ribs to the clasp of her bra. Her breasts pressed against me as if urging me on, and I kissed along her neck as my fingers quickly unhooked her bra and I slipped the straps from her shoulders. I pulled back slightly to allow the garment to fall and for the first time took in the full view of her breasts completely bared to me. Fucking perfect. In my fantasies I'd done everything to them: touched them, kissed them, sucked them, but nothing compared to the reality of just staring at them.

Nothing but her tiny panties separated us. I buried my face in her chest and her hands ran through my hair, pulling me closer.

"You want to taste me?" she whispered, staring down at me. She pulled my hair hard enough to yank my head away from her skin.

I had no smart-ass remark, nothing biting to get her to stop talking. I did want to taste her skin. I wanted it more than I think I'd ever wanted anything. "God, Yes"

"Ask nicely, then."

"Fuck asking nicely. Let me go."

She whimpered, leaning forward to let me suck a perfect nipple into my mouth, causing her to pull harder on my hair. Damn that felt good.

Sliding my hands down her sides, I let my fingers run along the waist of her underwear. A shiver went through her, and I closed my eyes tightly as I bound the material in my hand, willing myself to stop.

"Go ahead and rip them. . . you know you want to," she murmured into my ear and then bit down hard. A half-second later, her panties were nothing but a mess of lace in the corner of the room.

I could smell her excitation in the air, I was anxious to taste her juices and my ears were aching to hear her scream my name while I fucked her with my mouth. So I went down on her. I explored every single part of her with my tongue. I bit, licked and tasted her like I was in the desert and she was my own personal oasis. I took my time just like she did with me not long ago. Sweet revenge.

I was aware of the sounds of voices all around us as people entered and left the other dressing rooms. The thought that we could get caught at any moment only made this even hotter.

"Look at the mirror, Amy" she demanded, her voice hoarse. It was the first time I'd ever hear her say my name and I must admit, I loved hearing it, especially with that voice, so raspy and domineering. I turned my gaze to the mirror like she ordered and _Holy Shit_ , the image reflected on it almost made me come in my panties.

She was gloriously naked; her body rosy and glistening with sweat, her hair a wild sexy mess and her eyes the darkest hazel. She was fucking beautiful and all just for me. God how lucky I was. I on the other hand, was still fully dressed, my cheeks flushed and my eyes were greener than ever. It was the most erotic thing I'd ever seen in my life.

"I want you to watch. I want you to remember how much you enjoyed eating my pussy" she growled at me. "And tomorrow when you're in your office all alone I want you to think about this every freaking time you close your eyes"

 _Oh God,_ Ok I pretty sure I just came in my pants. And I will think about this a lot she doesn't have to tell me twice, and not just tomorrow, probably later tonight and for the rest of my freaking life. Now more than ever I wanted to make her come. I was a woman with a mission. After a few minutes of sweetly torturing her clit with my tongue she came hard on my mouth and I savored every last drop of her. She was more delicious than I ever imagined. She'll be the death of me, I was sure of that but didn't care. I had turned into a junkie, living for my next fix. My almost perfectly constructed life was crashing around me and all I cared about at the moment was her.

We both dressed in silence; the fitting room area suddenly seemed too quiet and too small, and I was overly aware of each breath she took. I picked up the torn panties from the floor, depositing them in my pocket. I went to grab the door handle and stopped. Reaching out, I ran my hands slowly along the lacy fabric hanging from one of the hooks on the wall.

I met her eyes and said, "Get the garter belt too." And without looking back, I walked out of the dressing room.


	5. Chapter 5

Karma's POV

There were eighty-three vents, twenty-nine screws, five blades, and four bulbs on the ceiling fan above my bed. I rolled to my side, trying unsuccessfully to sleep at least for a few minutes but nothing. I was wide awake, too invested in what happened with Am…Miss Raudenfeld in that store to be able to sleep.

 _"_ _I want you to watch. I want you to remember how much you enjoyed eating my pussy"_

I can't believe I said that to her. Every time I'm with her I said and do things I don't normally do. It is like she brings out this animal side of me. And to be honest I like it. Without realizing it, my hand had traveled to my breast, absently twisting my nipple beneath my tank top. Closing my eyes, the touch of my own hands turned into hers in my memory. Hers fingers, ghosting along the undersides of my breasts, her thumbs brushing my nipples, cupping me in her palms… _damn it_. I let out a loud sigh and kicked a pillow off my bed. I knew exactly where this train of thought was headed. I had done this exact same thing three nights in a row and it had to stop now. With a huff I rolled over onto my stomach and closed my eyes tight, willing sleep to come. As if that ever worked.

I still remembered, with perfect clarity, the day almost a year and a half ago when Hank asked me up to his office for a talk. I'd started at RMG working as a junior assistant for Hank when I was in college. When my mother died, Hank had taken me under his wing; not so much a father figure, but certainly as a caring and warm mentor who had me to his home for dinner to keep an eye on my emotional state. He'd insisted his door would always be open for me. But on that particular morning, when he phoned my office, he sounded uncharacteristically formal, and frankly I was scared shitless.

In his office, he'd explained how her only daughter had lived in Paris for the past couple of years, working as a marketing executive for L'Oréal and she, Amy, was finally coming home, and in six months would take over the position of chief operating officer at Raudenfeld Media. Hank knew I was a year into my business degree and was looking into internship options that would give me the critical hands-on experience I needed. He insisted I complete my master's internship at RMG and that her daughter Amy would be more than thrilled to have me on her team.

Hank handed me the company-wide memo that would circulate the following week to announce Amy Raudenfeld's arrival.

Wow. That was my only thought as I looked over the paper on my way back to my office. Executive VP of product marketing at L'Oréal in Paris. Youngest nominee ever featured in the Crain's "Forty Under 40" list, published several times in the Wall Street Journal. A dual MBA from NYU-Stern School of Business and HEC Paris, where she specialized in corporate finance and global business, graduating summa cum by the age of thirty. Christ.

What was it Hank had said? _Extremely driven?_ That was an understatement if I'd ever heard one.

I hated to admit it now, but by the time she was set to arrive, I had developed a bit of a crush on Amy Raudenfeld. I was extremely anxious about working with her, but I was also impressed with everything she'd accomplished in her relatively short life. Looking up her picture online didn't hurt either: the woman was a specimen. We communicated through e-mail leading up to her arrival, and although she seemed nice enough, she was never overly friendly.

On the big day, Amy wasn't due in until after the board meeting that afternoon, when she would be officially introduced. I had the entire day to work myself up into a ball of nerves. Being the good friend she is, Zita came upstairs to distract me. She sat in my chair and we spent over an hour discussing the merits of the Clerks movies.

Soon I was laughing so hard I had tears running down my face. I didn't notice that Zita stiffened when the outer office door opened, and I didn't notice that someone was now standing behind me. And though Zita tried to warn me with a swift hand across the throat—the universal sign for "shut the fuck up"—I ignored her.

Because, apparently, I'm an idiot.

And then," I said, giggling and holding onto my sides, "she says, 'Fuck, I had to take a fucking order off a guy I blew after junior prom once.' And then he says, 'Yeah, I've waited on your brother too.'"

Another bout of laughter hit me, and I stumbled backward a bit until I collided with something hard and warm.

"Miss Raudenfeld!" I said, recognizing her from her photographs. "I'm so sorry!"

She did not look amused.

In an attempt to ease the tension, Zita stood and extended her hand. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Zita Jones, Lauren's assistant."

My new boss simply glanced at her hand without returning the gesture and raised one of her perfect eyebrows. "Don't you mean 'Miss Cooper'?"

Zita's hand slowly fell as she watched her, obviously flustered. Something about her physical presence was so intimidating she was at a loss for words. When she recovered, she stuttered, "Well . . . we are fairly casual around here. We're all on a first-name basis. This is your assistant, Karma."

She nodded to me. "Miss Ashcroft. You will refer to me as Miss Raudenfeld. And I expect you in my office in five minutes so that we may discuss proper workplace decorum." Her voice was serious when she spoke, and she nodded curtly to Zita. "Miss Jones."

Sliding her gaze to mine for another moment, she turned on her heel toward her new office and I watched in horror as the first of hers infamous door slams took place.

"What a bitch!" Zita mumbled between tight lips.

"A beautiful bitch," I replied.

Hoping to smooth things over, I went down to the café to get her a cup of coffee. I'd even asked Lauren how she took it—black. When I nervously made it back to her office door, my knock was followed by an abrupt "come in," and I willed my hands to stop shaking. I curved my lips into a friendly smile, intent on making a better impression this time, and opened the door to her talking on the phone and writing furiously on the notepad in front of him. My breath caught when I heard her smooth voice speaking in flawless French.

"Ce sera parfait. Non. Non, ce n'est pas nécessaire. Seulement quatre. Oui. Quatre. Merci, Ivan."

She ended the call but never lifted her eyes from her papers to greet me. Once I was standing in front of her desk, she addressed me in the same stern tone as before. "In the future, Miss Ashcroft, can you keep the level of gossip to a minimum? We're paying you to work, not to have a talk show with your co-worker. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

I stood speechless for a moment until she lifted her eyes to meet mine, raising an eyebrow. I shook myself out of my trance, all at once realizing the truth about Amy Raudenfeld: although she was even more breathtakingly gorgeous in person than in photos, she was not at all like I had imagined. Never judge a book by his cover I guess.

"Crystal clear, Miss," I said as I walked around her desk to set her coffee in front of her.

But just as I was about to reach her desk, my heel caught on the rug and I lunged forward. I heard a loud "Shit!" escape her lips—the coffee now nothing more than a scorching stain on her expensive suit.

"Oh my God, Miss Raudenfeld, I am so sorry!"

I rushed over to the sink in her bathroom to grab a towel and ran back, falling to my knees in front of her and attempting to wipe off the stain. In my haste, and in the midst of humiliation I didn't think could get any worse, it suddenly occurred to me that I was furiously rubbing the towel against her, well, private parts. I averted my eyes and hand, feeling a heated blush spread from my face down my neck. Can I make a bigger fool of myself right now?

"You may go now, Miss Ashcroft."

I nodded, rushing out of the office, mortified that I'd made such a horrible first impression.

Thankfully, I proved myself pretty quickly after that. There were times when she even seemed impressed with me, although she was always short and on edge. I chalked it up to her being a giant witch, but I had always wondered if there was something specific about me that rubbed her the wrong way.

Besides that towel, of course.

When I arrived at work, I bumped into Zita on my way to the elevator. We made plans to have lunch next week and said good-bye as she reached her floor. Arriving at the eighteenth floor, I noticed Miss Raufenfeld's office door was closed as usual, so I couldn't tell if she was here yet. I turned on the computer and tried to mentally prepare myself for the day. Lately, anxiety hit every time I sat in this chair.

I knew I would see her this morning; we went over the schedule for the coming week every Friday. But I never knew what kind of mood she would be in.

Although her temper had been even worse lately, her last words to me yesterday had been, "Get the garter belt too." And I had. In fact, I was wearing it now. Why? I had no idea. What in the hell had she meant by that? Did she think she was going to see it? No fucking way. Then why had I worn it? _I swear to God, if she rips it . . ._ I stopped myself before I could finish.

Of course she wouldn't rip it. I was never going to give her the chance.

Keep telling yourself that, Ashcroft

Answering some e-mails, editing the Booker contract for intellectual property issues, and making a few hotel inquiries took my mind off the situation for a bit, and about an hour later her office door opened. Looking up, I was met with a very businesslike Miss Raudenfeld. She looked calm and completely at ease. No trace remained of the wild woman who had fucked me with her mouth in the La Perla dressing room approximately eighteen hours and thirty-six minutes ago. Not that I was counting.

"Are you ready to begin?"

"Yes, Miss."

She nodded once and turned back to her office.

Okay, so that's how this was going to play out. Fine by me. I wasn't sure what I'd been expecting but was somewhat relieved that things weren't different. Things between us were getting more and more intense, and it would mean a harder crash when it all stopped and I was left to pick up the pieces of my career. I hoped we could limp through this without further disaster until I finished my degree.

I followed her into her office and took a seat. I began going over the list of tasks and appointments that needed her attention. She listened without comment, jotting things down or entering them into her computer when needed.

"There's a meeting with Red Hawk Publishing scheduled for three this afternoon. Your father and sister are also planning to attend. It will probably take up the rest of the afternoon, so your calendar has been cleared . . ." And so it went, until eventually we got to the part I'd been dreading.

"Lastly, the JT Miller Marketing Insight Conference is in San Diego next month," I said, suddenly becoming interested in what I was doodling in my calendar. The pause that followed seemed to drag forever, and I glanced up to see what was taking so long. She was staring at me, tapping a gold pen on the desk, her face completely void of any expression.

"Will you be joining me?" she asked.

"Yes." My one word created a suffocating silence in the room. I had no idea what she was thinking as we looked at each other. "It's in the terms of the scholarship that I attend. I, uh, also think it'd be good to have me there to, um, help manage your affairs."

"Make all the necessary arrangements," she said with an air of finality as she resumed typing on his computer. Assuming I had been dismissed, I stood and began walking toward the door.

"Miss Ashcroft."

I turned to look at him, and even though he didn't meet my gaze, he almost seemed nervous. Well, that was different.

"Lauren has asked me to extend an invitation to you for dinner next week."

"Oh." I felt heat bloom across my cheeks. "Well, please tell her I'll look at my schedule." I turned to leave again.

"I was told I must . . . strongly encourage you to attend."

Turning back slowly, I saw she was now staring at me, and she definitely looked uncomfortable. "And why exactly should you do that?"

"Well," she said before clearing her throat, "apparently she has someone she would like you to meet."

"Your sister is trying to set me up?" I asked walking back toward his desk and folding my arms over my chest.

"So it seems." Something in her face didn't quite fit her nonchalant answer.

"Why?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

Her brow furrowed in obvious annoyance. "How the hell would I know? It's not like we sit around discussing you," she growled. "Maybe she's trying to win her ticket to heaven by helping you avoid a life full of cats and loneliness"

Leaning forward with my palms on her desk I glared at her. "Well, maybe she should help you by committing you in a loony bin so you will not turn into a dirty old woman who spends her time hoarding panties and stalking girls in lingerie stores."

Jumping out of her chair, she leaned toward me, her face furious. "You know, you are the most—" She was cut off as the phone rang. We stared fiercely at each other from across the desk, both of us breathing heavily. For a moment, I thought she would throw me across the desk. For another moment, I wanted her to. Still glaring at me, she reached for the phone.

"Yes," she barked sharply into the receiver, her eyes never leaving mine. "George! Hello. Yes, I have a minute."

She lowered himself back into her desk chair, and I lingered to see if she needed anything from me while she talked to Mr. Booker. She held up her index finger for me to wait before she slid it over her pen, rolling it across her desk as she listened to the call.

"You need me to stay?" I asked

She nodded once before speaking into the phone, "I don't think you'd need to be that specific at this stage, George." "Just a general outline is fine. We need to know the scope of this proposal before we can move into drafting."

I shifted where I stood. She was such an egomaniac, making me stand here like I was holding a plate of grapes and fanning her while she spoke to a colleague.

She looked up at me and did a slight double take, her eyes dropping to my skirt. When she looked back up, her lips opened slightly, as if she would ask me something were she able. And then she reached forward, pen poised between her finger and thumb, and used the tip of it to lift the hem of my skirt up my thigh.

Her eyes widened when she saw the garter.

"I understand," she murmured into the phone, letting my skirt fall. "I think we can agree that's a positive development."

Her eyes moved up my body, darkening as they traveled. My heart began to pound. When she looked at me like that, I wanted to slip onto his lap and bind her to the chair with a tie.

"No, no. Nothing so broad at this point. As I said, this is only a preliminary outline."

I slipped around her desk and sat in the chair across from her. She raised an eyebrow, interested, and then slipped the tip of the pen between her teeth, biting down.

Heat bloomed between my legs and I reached for the hem of my skirt, sliding the fabric up my thighs, exposing my skin to the cool air in her office and to the hungry eyes across the desk from me.

"Yes, I see," she said, her voice was hoarse now.

My fingertips trailed over the lines of the garters, along skin and to the satin of my underwear. Nothing—and no one—had ever made me feel as sexy as she did. It was as if she took all my thoughts of my job, my life, and my goals and said, _"These are all well and good, but look at this other thing I'm offering you. It will be twisted and very dangerous but you'll crave it. You'll crave me."_

And if she'd said that out loud, she would have been right.

"Yes, "she said again. "I think that's the ideal path forward."

 _You do, do you?_ I smiled at her, chewing my lip, and she gave me a devilish half smile in return. The fingers of one hand traveled higher, cupping my breast and squeezing. With my other hand, I pushed the center of my panties aside and ran two fingers across my wet skin.

Miss Raudenfeld coughed and fumbled for her water glass. "That's fine, George. We'll take that over when we receive it. We can handle that timeline."

I began moving my hand; thinking of her delicate fingers rolling the pen, those very fingers that brought me to climax some many times this past couple of days. I moved faster, my eyes falling closed and head dropping back against the chair. I tried to be quiet, biting down on my lip when a tiny moan escaped.

I looked up to see her hungry expression trained on my face as I fell and fell and fell. My climax was both overwhelming and unsatisfying: I wanted it to be her touch doing this to me instead of my own.

At some point, her call had ended, and my breath sounded too loud in the silent room. She sat across from me, sweat beading her brow, her hands gripping the arms of her desk chair as if she'd been thrown into the wind.

"What are you doing to me?" she asked quietly.

I grinned, blowing my bangs out of my eyes. "I'm pretty sure I just did that to myself."

Her brow lifted. "Indeed."

I stood, smoothing my skirt back down my thighs. "If that will be all, Miss Raudenfeld, I'll get back to work."

By the time I returned from freshening up in the restroom, I had a text message from Miss Raudenfeld informing me that she would meet me in the parking garage to head downtown. Thank God the other executives and their assistants would be going to the Red Hawk meeting. I knew from our history that if I had to sit in a limo with that woman alone for twenty minutes—especially after what I just did—there were only two possible outcomes. And only one of them ended with my panties intact.

The limo was waiting right outside, and as I made my way to it our driver smiled widely to me and opened the door. "Hey, Karma, how's work?"

"Busy, fun, never-ending. How's school?" I smiled back. Stuart was my favorite driver, and although he had a tendency to be a bit of a flirt, he always made me smile.

"If I could drop physics and still graduate with a degree in biology, I would. Too bad you aren't a scientist or you could tutor me," he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"If you two are finished, we actually have somewhere important to be. Maybe you can flirt with Miss Ashcroft on your own time." Miss Raudenfeld was apparently already inside waiting for me, and she glared at the two of us as she retreated back into the car. I grinned and rolled my eyes at Stuart before stepping inside.

Aside from Miss Raudenfeld, the car was empty. "Where are the others?" I asked, confused, as we pulled away

"They have a dinner meeting later this evening and decided to drive separately."She busied himself with her printouts.

I eyed her suspiciously. She didn't look any different. In fact, she looked sexier than hell. Her hair perfect as usual. As she absentmindedly lifted her gold pen to her lips, just as she had in her office earlier, I actually had to shift in my seat to ease my discomfort.

When she looked up, the smirk on her face let me know I had been caught ogling her. "See something you like?" she asked.

"Not back here," I replied with a smirk of my own. And just because I knew it would get to her, I purposely recrossed my legs, making sure my skirt rode up a bit more than was appropriate. Maybe she needed to remember who could win at this game. The scowl was back in an instant. Mission accomplished.

The eighteen and a half minutes left of our twenty-minute drive were spent trading dirty looks across the car while I tried to pretend I wasn't fantasizing about having her pretty head between my legs.

Needless to say, by the time we got there, I was in a bad mood.

The next three hours passed at a snail's pace. The other executives arrived and introductions were made all around. A particularly striking woman named Lila seemed to take an immediate interest in my boss. She was in her early thirties with thick red hair, luminous dark eyes, and a body to die for. And of course, the panty-dropping smile was in full force as she nearly charmed her unconscious the entire afternoon.

Asshole.

When we walked into the office at the end of the day, after an even more tense drive back, it still seemed like Miss Raudenfeld had something to say. And if she didn't do it soon, I was going to explode. When I wanted her to be quiet, she couldn't keep her mouth shut. But when I needed her to say something, she became a mute.

A sense of déjà vu and dread filled me as we made our way through the semideserted building and toward the elevator. The second those gold doors closed I wished I were anywhere but standing next to her. _Was there suddenly less oxygen in here?_ As I glanced at her reflection in the polished doors, it was hard to tell how she felt.

When we reached the eighteenth floor, I let out a giant breath. That had to have been the longest forty-two seconds of my life. I followed her through the door, trying to keep my eyes off her as he quickly entered his own office. But to my surprise, he didn't close the door behind her. She always closed her door.

I quickly checked my messages and wrapped up a few last-minute details before I could leave for the weekend. I don't think I'd ever been in more of a hurry to get out of here. Well, that wasn't exactly true. The last time we were alone on this floor I had made a pretty quick getaway. Damn, if there was ever a time to not think about that, it would be now, in the empty office. Just me and her.

She left her office right as I was gathering my things, placing an ivory envelope on my desk and continuing to the door without pausing. What the hell was this?

Quickly opening the envelope, I saw my name on several pieces of elegant ivory paper. It was paperwork for a private credit account at La Perla, with Miss Amy Raudenfed as the account holder.

 _Oh no, she didn't_

"What the hell is this?" I said, seething. I jumped from my chair and asked, "You got me a freaking line of credit?

Stopping midstride and hesitating slightly, she turned to face me. "After your little show today, I made a phone call and arranged for you to purchase whatever you . . . need. Of course there's no limit on the account," she stated flatly, having wiped all trace of discomfort from her face. This is why she was such a master at what he did. She had an uncanny ability to regain control of any situation. But did she honestly think he could control me?

"Ok so, just to be clear" I said, shaking my head and trying to keep some semblance of calm, "you creep arranged to buy me _lingerie_ "

"You really love unnecessary drama don't you?" she asked tiredly, "Calm down, don't call the cops on me just yet" "I did it to replace the things that I-"she stopped, possibly rethinking her response. "The things that have been damaged. If you don't want it, don't use it, I was just being thoughtful" she hissed before turning to leave again.

"You really are one sick son of a bitch" I moved to stand in front of her, the crisp stationery now a mangled ball of paper in my clenched fist. "Do you think this is a joke? Do you think I'm your freaking doll and you can play dress up with me just for your amusement?" I didn't know who I was angrier with: her for thinking of me that way, or me for allowing this thing to start in the first place.

She scoffed, "Oh yes Miss Ashcroft, I find this absolutely hilarious."

"Take this and stick it up your ass." I shoved the ivory paper into her chest and grabbed my purse, turning and literally sprinting to the elevator. What an egotistical, womanizing ass.

Logically I knew that she hadn't meant to insult me, at least I hoped not. But this? This was exactly why you don't fuck your boss, why you definitely don't get off and give her a little show in her office.

Apparently, I missed that part of orientation.

"Miss Ashcroft!" she shouted, but I ignored her and stepped into the elevator. Come on, I said to myself as I repeatedly pushed the button for the parking garage. Her face appeared just as the doors closed and I smiled to myself as I flipped her off. Real mature, Karma.

"Shit. Shit. Shit!" I yelled into the empty elevator, practically stomping my feet. That bitch had ripped her last pair of panties.

The elevator chimed, signaling that I'd reached the garage, and, muttering to myself, I made my way to my car. The garage was dimly lit and mine was one of the only cars left on this level, but I was too furious to even give it a second thought. I'd hate to see the unlucky prick who dared mess with me right now. Just as that thought entered my mind, I heard the stairwell door burst open and Miss Raudenfeld call out from behind me.

"Jeez! Can you just fucking wait?" she shouted. It did not escape my attention that she was out of breath. I suppose sprinting down eighteen flights of stairs would do that to a person.

Unlocking my car, I jerked open the door and threw my purse onto the passenger seat. "What the hell do you want, Amy?"

"God, can you take it out of bitch mode for two seconds and listen to me?"

I spun around to face her. "Do you think I'm some kind of whore?"

A hundred different emotions flashed across her face: anger, shock, confusion, hate, and fuck me if she didn't look delicious.

Keeping a careful distance, she shook her head. "What? No!" she said, looking around the garage. "I can't believe you could think that! It was just in case that I…" she stopped, trying to organize her thoughts but finally give up. She knew she was screwed.

The rage was coursing through me so strongly that before I could stop myself, I stepped forward and slapped her hard across the face. The sound cracked through the empty garage. With a shocked and furious glare, she reached up and touched the spot where I had struck her.

"You maybe the boss here, but you're not the boss of me!" "You don't get to decide how this sick thing between us works, you hear me?" I screamed at her.

The silence stretched before us, the sounds of the traffic and the outside world barely registering in my consciousness. "Loud and clear Miss Ashcroft, but you know…"she began with a dark stare, taking a single step toward me, "I didn't hear YOU complaining."

 _Oh, that smooth fucker._

"In the conference room." Another step. "In the elevator and stairwell. In the dressing room while you me made watch how I fucked you with my mouth." And another. "When you spread your legs in my office today, I didn't hear one word of protest out of that pretty little mouth of yours.

My chest was heaving, and I could feel the cool metal of my car through the thin material of my dress. Even with my shoes, she still stood a full head above me, and when she leaned down, I could feel her warm breath against my hair. All I had to do was look up, and our mouths would meet.

"Well, I'm done" I said through clenched teeth, but each labored breath brought me a brief moment of relief as my chest grazed against hers.

"Sure you are," she whispered, shaking her head and moving even closer. She braced her hands against the car, trapping me. "Completely done."

"Well. . . maybe . . ." I said, not sure whether I meant to say it out loud.

"Maybe just one more time?" Her lips barely brushed mine.

It was too gentle, too real.

Turning my face up, I whispered against her mouth, "I don't want to want you. This thing is not good for me."

"You and me both sweetheart" she said seductively and just when I thought I would go insane, she took my lower lip roughly between her and pulled me to her. Moaning into my mouth, she deepened the kiss and pushed me forcefully against the car.

Our kisses were teasing then rough, coming together and pulling apart, hands fisting in hair and tongues sliding against each other.

"God," I moaned, wrapping my leg around her and digging my heel into her thigh.

"I know." She exhaled heavily into my mouth. Looking down at my leg and cupping my ass with her hand, she gave it a rough squeeze and murmured, "Have I told you how fucking hot those shoes are? What are you trying to do to me with those wicked little bows?"

"Well, there's another bow somewhere else but you'll need some luck finding it."

She pulled away. "Get in the fucking car," she said huskily. And I did, she didn't have to ask me twice.


	6. Chapter 6

Amy's POV

The burning in my chest was almost enough to distract me from the mess inside my head. _Almost._ My mind was still thinking in the last exchange we had after we fucked in her car.

 _"_ _I assume you'll ignore the account I set up for you. I realize this can't happen again" I said, avoiding her eyes, my voice as neutral as possible. I could feel her eyes burning my skull while I was fixing my clothes but I didn't dare to look at her. I just couldn't, everything was becoming too real with her._

 _Moments passed and she was still silent. That was driving me crazy so I decided to stop being a pussy and finally looked at her. Her beauty left me breathless for a moment. The expression on her face was unreadable. "Say something so I know you've heard me."_

 _"_ _Tell Lauren I'll be there for dinner Miss Raudenfeld. And get the hell out of my car"_

I increased the incline on the treadmill and pushed myself harder. Feet pounding, muscles on fire, it always worked. That was how I lived my life. There was nothing I couldn't accomplish if I just pushed hard enough: school, career, and women.

Shit. _Women._

Disgusted, I shook my head and turned up the volume on my iPod, hoping it would distract me long enough to get some sense of peace. I didn't. I should have known that. She was fucking everywhere. Every time I closed my eyes she was right there with me. Mocking me. Fighting me. Wanting me. Fucking me and me fucking her. Being with her satiated the hunger I felt for her, but after it was over I always found myself wanting, no, more like needing more of her as soon as it ended. She was like a drug to me. _Great now I quoting freaking "Twilight", that's just great Amy._ It was terrifying, because in those moments with her, I'd do anything she asked. And that feeling was starting to bleed into moments like this too, when I wasn't even with her and still wanted to be what she needed. Ridiculous.

My earbud was tugged free, and I turned toward the source of the annoyance. "What?" I said, glaring at my stepsister.

"You keep that up, we're gonna be peeling you off the floor, Ames," she replied. "What'd she do to piss you off this time?"

"Who?"

She rolled her eyes. "Duh, Karma."

I felt my stomach tighten at the sound of her name and focused my attention back on the treadmill. "What makes you think this has anything to do with her?"

"Because I'm not a fucking idiot."

"Nothing's bothering me. And even if something was, why on earth would it have anything to do with her?"

She smirked, shaking her head. "I've never met anyone who gets this kind of reaction out of you. And you know why, don't you?" She had shut off her machine and was now focusing all her attention on me. _Crap_. I knew she suspected something. Lauren was perceptive, too perceptive at times. And if there was ever anything I wanted to keep from her, it was this.

I kept my gaze forward as I ran, trying not to meet her eyes. "Enlighten me."

"Because you two are too much alike," she said smugly.

"What?"

Several people turned to see why I was yelling in the middle of the crowded gym. I slammed my hand down on the stop button and turned to face her. "How could you even think that? We are nothing alike." I was sweaty, out of breath, and ramped up from running ten miles. But right now, the rise in my blood pressure had nothing to do with my workout.

Taking a long drink from her water bottle, Lauren continued to smirk. "Who do you think you're talking to? I've never met two people more alike. First of all . . ." She paused, clearing her throat and bringing her hand up to dramatically tick things off on her fingers. "You're both intelligent, determined, hardworking, and loyal. And," she continued, pointing at me, "she's a firecracker. In fact, she's the first woman in your entire life that can stand up to you and doesn't follow you around like some lost puppy. You hate how much you need that."

Had everyone lost their mind? Sure, she might be some of those things; even I couldn't deny that she was incredibly intelligent. She was a hard worker; I was often surprised at how well she kept up with things. She was definitely determined, although I would describe it more along the lines of pigheaded or stubborn. And there was no question of her loyalty. She could have sold me out a hundred times since we'd started this sick game

I stood glaring at her as I tried to formulate my response. "Yeah, well, she's also a raving bitch with a princess complex." _Nice. Very articulate, Amy._

Stepping down, I quickly wiped off my machine and made my way across the gym in an effort to escape.

She laughed happily behind me. "See? I knew she was getting to you."

"Fuck off, Lauren."

I settled in to do some sit-ups when she stood over me, grinning like a cat that swallowed a canary. "Well, my work is done here," she said, brushing off her hands and looking increasingly pleased with herself. "Guess I'll be heading home."

"Good. Go."

Laughing, she turned to leave but stopped abruptly and turned around to face me "Did you do what I asked you?"

"What?"

"Invite Karma to the dinner like I told to do?" she replied annoyed.

I nodded, sitting up to fiddle with my shoelaces. "She said she'd be there."

"Good, thanks stepsis you're not entirely useless after all" she said, a smirk on her face. I rolled my eyes at her in annoyance. Suddenly curiosity took over me and I couldn't help it.

"So, who is this guy anyway?" I asked disinterested. I didn't want her to suspect even more of me.

"Liam Booker" she replied like it was nothing, but she knew exactly the effect it will had on me.

" _WHAT?_ Are you out of your freaking mind? He's our biggest client's son!" I almost yelled at her.

"I know exactly who he is, no need to yell to remind me" she replied snarky.

"I'm not yelling! And what that hell you think you're doing?" I asked coldly. I was very close to losing it.

"Smart business" she answered. "Our client's son is happy, so our client is happy and that makes us very rich and happy, is that simple Ames"

"He is a fuckboy you know that!" I said angrier that I supposed to. "And since when we pimp our employees?"

"Oh come on Amy, don't you think you're overreacting a little bit here?" she asked, eying me suspiciously.

"No, you know what I feel about mixing business with pleasure" I said determined. Yes I was a fucking hypocrite but I didn't care at the time.

"I thought you'll be happy" she said estranged. "Karma dating Booker can have her perks; she'll be infinitely more docile with you in the office"

"And why exactly would that be?" I asked confused. Lauren smirked at me and it hit me. The thought of them sleeping together make me sick to the stomach. "You're disgusting"

I lay back, began doing sit-ups a bit faster than was necessary.

"No, I'm proactive" she said, a smug smile in her face. I wanted to punch her so much right now. "See later, Ames"

"Yeah, later," I mumbled.

Sunday night as I lay in bed I replayed the plan in my head. I was thinking about her too much, and differently. I had to be tough and make it a week without touching her. It was like detoxing. Seven days, I could do that. Seven days of not touching her and this thing would be out of my system. I could finally move on with my life. There were just a couple of precautions I had to take.

First, I couldn't be goaded into arguing with her. For some reason, the two of us arguing was like some sick form of foreplay. Second: no more fantasizing about her, ever. That meant no more reliving sexual encounters, no more fantasizing about new ones, and no more picturing her naked or with any of my body parts coming in contact with any of hers.

And for the most part, things seemed to go according to plan. I was in a constant state of discomfort and the week seemed to drag on, but aside from a lot of dirty fantasies, I remained in control. I did my best to stay busy outside the office, but during the times we were forced together, I kept a constant distance, and for the most part we treated each other with the same polite aversion we had before.

But I swear she was trying to break me. Each day it seemed that Miss Ashcroft looked sexier than the day before. Every day there was something about what she wore or did that brought my mind back to the gutter. I'd made a deal with myself that there would be no more lunchtime "sessions." I had to stop this, and imagining her while masturbating—hell, imagining her masturbating—wasn't going to help.

Monday she wore her hair down. All I could think about as she sat across from me during a meeting was wrapping it around my hands as she went down on me.

Tuesday she had on a formfitting knee-length skirt and those stockings with the seam up the back. She looked like some sort of hot secretary pinup.

Wednesday she wore a suit. That was unexpectedly worse, because I couldn't get my mind off what it would feel like to slide those pants down her long legs.

Thursday she had on a perfectly ordinary V-neck blouse, but twice when she bent over to pick up my pen I got a good look down her shirt. Only one of those times was on purpose.

By Friday I thought I would explode. I hadn't masturbated once all week and was walking around with the worst case of blue ovaries known to woman.

As I walked into the office Friday morning, I was praying that maybe she would call in sick. Somehow I knew I wouldn't be that lucky. I was horny and in a particularly bad mood, and when I opened the office door I almost had a heart attack. She was bent over watering a plant in a charcoal gray sweater dress and knee-high boots. Every curve of her body was on display. Someone up there really hated me.

Good morning, Miss Raudenfeld," she said sweetly, stopping me as I passed her. Something was up. She never said anything sweetly to me. I eyed her suspiciously.

"Good morning, Miss Ashcroft. You seem to be in an exceptionally cordial mood today. Did somebody die?"

The corner of her mouth lifted in a devilish smirk. "Oh, no. I'm just excited about dinner tomorrow, and meeting Liam. Lauren's told me all about him. I think we really might have a lot in common."

 _Son of a bitch._ "Oh right. Dinner. I'd completely forgotten. Yes, you and Liam. . . Well, since he's a mama's boy and you're an overbearing shrew, you two should find a pretty solid love connection. I'd love a cup of coffee if you're getting one for yourself." I turned and headed into my office.

It occurred to me that it might not be in my best interest to let her make my coffee. One of these days she was likely to put something in it. Like arsenic.

Before I'd even sat down, she knocked at my door.

"Come in."

She set my coffee down hard enough that some of it spilled on what she knew damn well was a custom-built fifteen-thousand-dollar desk, and turned to look at me.

"Are we having the scheduling meeting this morning?" She was standing near my desk in a pool of sunlight. Shadows draped across her dress, accentuating the curve of her breasts. Fuck, I wanted to pull her tight nipple into my mouth. Was it cold in here? How could she be cold when I was sweating bullets?

I had to get the hell out of here.

"No. I forgot about a meeting downtown this afternoon. So I'll be leaving for the day in about ten minutes. Just e-mail me all the details," I replied quickly, heading for the safety and coverage of my desk chair.

"I wasn't aware of any off-site meeting today," she said skeptically.

"No, you wouldn't have been," I said. "It's personal."

When she didn't respond I chanced a glance up and saw a strange expression on her face. What was that look? She obviously looked mad, but there was something else. Was she. . . was she jealous?

"Oh," she answered, chewing on her lower lip. "Is it with someone I know?" She never asked questions about where I was going. "I mean, just in case your father or sister need to get a hold of you.

"Well . . ." I paused, trying to torture her a bit. "In this day and age, if someone needs to get a hold of me, they can call my cell phone. Is there anything else, Miss Ashcroft?"

She hesitated for a moment before lifting her chin and straightening her shoulders. "Since you won't be here, I was thinking that I'd like to start the weekend early. Maybe do some shopping for tomorrow night."

"No problem. I'll just see you tomorrow." Our gazes locked across the desk, and the electricity in the air was so palpable I could feel my heart rate increase.

"Have a nice meeting," she said through clenched teeth, leaving and closing the door behind her.

I was relieved when I heard her leave fifteen minutes later. Deciding it was now safe to go, I gathered up my things and headed out. I was stopped by a man carrying a large flower arrangement.

"Can I help you with something?" I asked.

Looking up from his clipboard he glanced around before answering, "I have a delivery for a Miss Karma Ashcroft?"

What the—? Who the hell would send her flowers? Was she seeing someone while we were . . . ? I couldn't even finish the thought.

"Miss Ashcroft has gone for lunch. She'll be back in about an hour," I lied. I had to get a look at that card. "I'll sign for those and make sure she gets them." He set the arrangement on her desk.

Signing the clipboard quickly, I handed him a tip and mumbled a good-bye as he left. For three long minutes I stood and stared at the flowers, willing myself to stop being such a pussy and to definitely not look at the card.

 _Roses_. She despised roses. I snickered because whoever sent her these knew nothing about her. Even I knew she didn't like roses. I'd overheard her telling Zita one day about how one of her dates sent her a bouquet. She'd immediately given them away, disliking the pungent scent. Finally, my curiosity got the better of me and I ripped the card away from the arrangement

Looking forward to dinner,

Liam Booker

That foreign sensation slowly spread through my chest again as I crumpled the card in my fist.

Retrieving the flowers from her desk, I walked out the door, locking up behind me, and made my way down the hall to the elevator.

Just as the doors opened I passed a wide chrome garbage can, and without a second thought I dropped the vase and all of its contents inside.

I didn't know what the fuck was going on with me. But I did know there was no way in hell she was going out with Liam Booker.

I spent the better part of Saturday running at the lake, trying to get some air, some distance, and some clarity to my thoughts. Even so, the hour-long drive to my mother's house gave me plenty of time to return to the tangle of frustrations in my head: Miss Ashcroft, how I hated her, how much I craved her, the flowers Liam sent. Leaning farther back into the seat, I tried to let the soothing sound of the car engine calm me. It wasn't working.

So here were the facts: I felt possessive of her. Not in a romantic sort of way, but in a "hit her over the head, drag her off by the hair, and fuck her" way. Like she was my toy and I was keeping the boys in the sandbox from playing with her. How sick was that? f she ever heard me admit to that, she would probably slap me gladly on the face.

Now the question was how to proceed. Obviously Liam was interested. How could he not be? She was breathtakingly beautiful, but there was no way he could have an actual conversation with her and still find her appealing. They were nothing alike and he was way out of her league.

 _Unless he just wanted to fuck her_ . . .

The sound of the leather steering wheel straining under my grip told me I'd be better off not thinking about that.

He wouldn't have agreed to meet her at my mom's house if all he wanted was sex would he? I considered this. Maybe he really did want to get to know her better. Hell, even I could admit to having been a bit intrigued before we actually spoke. Of course, that hadn't lasted long, and she'd proven to be one of the most aggravating people I'd ever met. Unfortunately for me, she was also the best sex I'd ever had.

Fuck, he'd better never get that far. I wasn't sure I knew where to hide a body around here

I parked the car in front of my mom's house and began mentally chanting, " _You can do this. You can do this"._

"Mom?" I called out; looking into each room I passed.

Out here, Amy," I heard her answer from the back patio.

I opened the French doors and was greeted with my mother's smile as she put the finishing touches on the outdoor table.

"So why are we eating out here tonight?"

"It's such a lovely evening, and I thought it might make everyone more comfortable than sitting in that stuffy dining room. You don't think anyone will mind, do you?"

"Of course not," I said. "It's beautiful out here. Don't worry."

And it was beautiful. The patio was topped with a massive white pergola, the beams draped in heavy greenery. The centerpiece was a large rectangular table that sat eight; it was covered in a soft ivory tablecloth and my mother's favorite china. Candles and blue flowers overflowed small silver pitchers running the length of the table, and wrought-iron candelabra flickered overhead.

"You do know that not even I can keep Sofia from tearing this stuff off the table, though, don't you?" I popped a grape into my mouth.

"Oh, she's with Theo's parents tonight. And just as well," she said. "If Sofia were here all the attention would be on her."

Shit. With Sofia making faces across from me, I would have had something to distract me from Liam.

"Tonight is about that girl Karma. Lauren is really hopeful that she'll hit it off with this Liam fellow." She continued flitting around the patio, lighting candles and making last-minute adjustments, completely unaware of my anguish.

I was screwed. As I was contemplating making a run for it, I heard Lauren. "Where is everybody?" she yelled, her high- pitch voice echoing through the empty house. Opening the door for my mother, we stepped inside, finding my sister in the kitchen with her husband.

"So Amy, Liam and Karma are about to get here, I know you don't like them but I need you in your best behavior tonight, is important that everything goes smoothly as possible" she said, her voice serious.

"Sure, don't worry about me, I'll be an angel" I said sweetly. She looked at me skeptically. I didn't blame her I didn't believe myself either.

Deciding I needed a few minutes to think, I excused myself and headed up the stairs to my old room. Sitting on my old bed I thought about how I'd feel if Miss Ashcroft actually became involved with Liam Booker. Ugh, the thought of him touching her made every muscle in my body clench.

Hearing a renewal of greetings and Liam's voice downstairs, I decided it was time to woman up and face the music.

As I cleared the final landing, I saw her. Her back was to me . . . and the air left my lungs.

Her dress was red.

Why did it have to be red?

She was wearing some sort of girly summer thing that stopped right above the knee and showed off her long legs. The top was made of the same material, with little ribbons tying it together at the top of each shoulder. All I could think was how much I would love to pull those ribbons loose and see it all fall around her waist. Or maybe drop to the floor.

Our eyes met across the room and she smiled such a genuine, happy smile that for a second even I believed it. "Hi, Miss Raudenfeld."

My lips twitched in amusement, watching her play the part in front of my family. "Miss Ashcroft," I replied, nodding. Our gaze never broke, even as my mother called everyone onto the patio for drinks before dinner.

As she passed, I turned my head, speaking in a voice low enough that only she could hear. "Successful shopping trip yesterday?"

Her eyes met mine, that same angelic smile on her face. "Wouldn't you like to know?" She brushed by me, and I felt my entire body stiffen. "And by the way, a new line of garter belts came in," she whispered before following everyone else outside.

I stopped and my jaw went slack as my mind raced back to our tryst in the dressing room at La Perla.

Up ahead, Liam leaned in close to her. "I really hope you didn't mind the flowers I sent to your office yesterday. I admit it was a bit much, but I've been looking forward to meeting you." I felt a knot tighten in my gut as Liam's words snapped me out of my dirty daydream.

She turned back to look at me. "Flowers? Did I have flowers delivered?"

I shrugged and shook my head. "I left early, remember?" I walked by on my way outside to make myself a Belvedere vodka gimlet.

As the evening wore on, I couldn't help but keep track of her in my peripheral vision. When dinner finally began, it was apparent that things were going relatively smoothly between her and Liam. She was even flirting with him.

"So Karma, Lauren told me you're from Texas?" Liam's voice interrupted yet another fantasy—this one of my fist hitting his jaw. I looked over to see him smiling warmly at her.

"That's right. My Dad is the owner of a juice company in Austin. My mom past away a few years ago so we came here to make a fresh start" she explained, traces of sadness on her eyes were visible.

"I'm so sorry about your Mom Karms" Liam said looking a little guilty for bringing the subject. I felt guilty myself for not knowing something like that about her. I should talk to her a little bit more, get to know her, not just fuck her on regular basis.

"Don't worry about it" she smiled at him warmly. She never smiled at me like that and I hated that and Liam Booker. "Now tell me about you"

"Well believe or not I'm from Austin too actually" he said smiling that million dollar smile of him. "We moved to Chicago when my family's company started to grow"

"No way, what school did you went? Karma asked excitedly. I was getting more annoyed by the second.

"Hester High and you?" Liam asked equally excited.

"I went there too" she said enthusiastic, suddenly a look of recognition crossed her face. "Oh my god, you're Liam Booker, the most popular guy in school". Great she knew him from the past. Just what I needed.

"Well I don't know I never really care much about popularity" he said humble. Yeah sure fuckboy, you probably lived for the popularity that's pure bullshit right there.

"So, tell me you're still an artist or you decided to follow your dad's footsteps?"Karma asked curiously.

"An artist, I kind of the black sheep of the family" Liam replied sheepishly. What a walking cliché, how can she be interested in this guy?

"Well I wanted to be a singer but I give up for college, singing doesn't pay the bills and all that" she said, sadness laced on her voice.

"You sing? I asked incredulous "You never told me that"

"Yes, I sing and you don't allow your employees to talk about their personal life in work hours Miss Raudenfeld" she said and stared at me for a moment and I had to admit I felt a hint of guilt twisting in my chest. It was quickly suppressed when she looked back over at Liam, biting her lip in the innocent way that only she could make look so damn sexy.

 _Stop flirting with him._

I clenched my fists as they continued to speak to each other. But several minutes later I froze. Could that be? I grinned into my cocktail. Yes, that was most definitely her foot creeping up my pant leg. Fucking devious little minx, touching me while carrying on a conversation with a man we both knew could never satisfy her. I watched her lips as they closed around her fork, my vagina moistened as her tongue slowly ran across them to remove the traces of marinade left behind by the fish.

"Wow, top five percent of your class at Northwestern. Nice!" Liam said and then looked over at me. "Bet you're glad to have someone so amazing working under you, huh?"

Karma coughed slightly, bringing her napkin up from her lap to cover her mouth. I smiled as I quickly glanced over to her and then back to Liam. "Yes, it's absolutely amazing having Miss Mills under me. She always gets the job done."

"Aw, Amy. That is so sweet of you," my mother gushed, and I watched Miss Ashcroft's face begin to redden. My smile vanished when I felt her foot well… _there._ It was my turn to cough, choking on my gimlet.

"Are you all right, Miss Raudenfeld?" she asked in feigned concern and I nodded, glaring daggers at her. She shrugged and then looked back over to Liam. "So how long have you been living here Liam?"

With the toe of her shoe, she continued to rub gently against me and I tried to keep control of my breathing, keep my expression neutral. As Liam began telling her about how he traveled across Europe while he was majoring in History of Arts in a very prestigious college in Italy and how after a couple of years he moved back to the states and opened a small art gallery, I watched her expression morph from one of feigned interest to one of genuine intrigue.

 _Hell no._

I slid my left hand under the tablecloth and met the skin of her ankle, watching her jump slightly at the contact. I moved my fingertips in light circles, ran my thumb along the arch of her foot, feeling increasingly smug when she had to ask Liam to repeat himself.

But then he mentioned he'd like to meet her for lunch sometime this week. My hand came to cover the top of her foot, pressing it more firmly against me.

She smirked.

"You could spare her for a lunch break, couldn't you, Amy?" Liam asked with a cheerful smile, his arm resting over the back of Karma's chair. It took everything I had not to reach across the table and rip that arm from his body. "Actually we could double date; my sister is very interested in you"

"Really?" I asked curiously, a smug smile forming in my face. This could be interesting.

"Yes really, she did an internship in L'Oreal a couple of years ago" he said, a smirk on her face "You leave her quite impressed, she talks very highly of you"

I glanced back over to Karma when I felt the tendons in her foot tighten, and watched her swallow slowly as she waited for my answer. "If she looks like a model like you pretty boy, sure. Might make for a nice change of scenery"

She lifted the napkin from her lap and dabbed at her mouth "Excuse me, I need to use the ladies' room." She said and left in a hurry. I could swear she looked a little upset. Maybe jealous even?

Once she was in the house, the entire table scowled at me.

"Amy," Lauren hissed. "I thought we talked about this."

I grabbed my glass and brought it to my lips. "I don't know what you mean."

"Honey," my mother added, "I think you should go apologize."

"For what?" I asked, setting down my drink a little too roughly.

"Amy!" my sister said sharply, leaving no room for argument.

I tossed my napkin onto my plate and pushed away from the table. I stormed through the house, searching the bathrooms on the first two floors, until finally reaching the third floor, where the bathroom door was closed.

Standing outside, my hand resting on the knob, I debated with myself. If I went in there, what would happen? There was only one thing I was interested in, and it sure as hell wasn't apologizing. I thought about knocking but knew for a fact she wouldn't invite me in. I listened carefully, waiting for any noise or sign of movement from inside. Nothing. Finally, I turned the knob, surprised to find it unlocked.

I'd only been in this bathroom a few times since my mother had remodeled it. It was a beautiful, modern room with a custom-built marble counter and a wide mirror covering one wall. Above the vanity table was a small window that overlooked the patio and grounds below. She was sitting on the padded bench in front of the table, staring out at the sky.

"Here to grovel?" she asked. She took the cap off her lipstick, which she carefully applied to her lips.

"I was sent to check on your delicate petal feelings." I reached behind me to turn the lock on the bathroom door, the audible click ringing in the silent room.

She laughed, meeting my eyes in the mirror. She looked completely composed, but I could see the rise and fall of her chest; she was every bit as worked up as I was.

"I assure you, I'm fine." She put the cap back on her lipstick and shoved it into her purse. She stood and started to move past me to the door. "I'm used to you being a bitch. But Liam seems nice. I should get back downstairs."

I put my hand on the door as I leaned closer to her face. "I don't think so." My lips lightly grazed under her ear, and she shuddered with the contact. "You see, he wants something that's mine, and he can't have it."

She glared at me. "What year is it? Two? Let me go. I am not yours."

"You might think that," I whispered, my lips ghosting along the column of her neck. "But your body," I said, running my hands under her skirt and pressing my hand against the damp lace between her legs, "thinks otherwise."

Her eyes closed and she let out a low moan as my fingers moved in slow circles against her clit. "Screw you."

"Let me," I said into her neck.

She let out a shaky laugh, and I pushed her against the bathroom door. Grabbing each of her hands, I raised them above her head, keeping them captive in my own and bending to kiss her. I felt her struggle weakly in my grip and I shook my head, tightening my hold.

"Let me," I repeated.

"Oh, God," she said as her head tilted to the side, allowing me access to her neck. "We can't do this here."

I ran my lips down and across her collarbone to her shoulder. Shifting both of her wrists into one hand, I reached down and slowly pulled one of the ribbons holding her top together, kissing along the newly exposed skin. Moving to the other side I repeated the action and was rewarded when the bodice slipped down to reveal a white lace strapless bra. Fuck. Did this woman own anything that didn't make me nearly come in my pants? I trailed my mouth down to her breasts while my free hand unfastened the clasp. There was no way I was missing the sight of her bare breasts this time. It opened easily and the lace fell away, revealing the vision that filled every one of my filthiest fantasies. As I took one pink nipple into my mouth, she moaned and her knees buckled slightly.

"Shhh," I whispered against her skin.

"More," she said. "Again."

I lifted her and she wrapped her legs around my waist, bringing our bodies together more firmly. I released her hands and she immediately brought them up to my hair and roughly pulled me closer. Fuck, I loved it when she did that. I pushed her against the door but then realized there were too many clothes in the way; I wanted to feel the heat of her skin against my own, wanted to bury my fingers inside her and keep her pinned to the wall until everyone had long since gone to bed.

The sound of laughter outside floated up through the open window, and I felt her tense against me. A long moment passed before her eyes met mine, and it was clear she was struggling with what to say.

"We shouldn't do this," she said finally, shaking her head. "He's waiting for me." She halfheartedly tried to push me away but I held my ground.

"Do you actually want him?" I asked, feeling a wave of possessiveness boil up inside me. She held my gaze but didn't answer.

I set her down and pulled her to the dressing table, stopping to stand just behind her. From where we stood, we had a perfect view of the patio below.

I pulled her bare back to my chest and brought my mouth to her ear. "Do you see him?" I asked, my hands sliding along her breasts. "Look at him." I skimmed my hands down her abdomen, along her skirt and to her thighs. "Does he make you feel like this?" My fingers floated up her thigh and underneath her panties. A low hiss escaped my mouth as I felt the wetness there and pushed inside. "Would he ever make you this wet?"

She groaned and pressed her hips back into me. "No . . ."

"Tell me what you want," I whispered against her shoulder.

"I—I don't know."

"Look at him," I said, my fingers moving in and out of her. "You know what you want."

"I want to you." "God, I'll always want you" she said almost breathless. I lifted her skirt and gripped her panties in my hands. "Rip them," she whispered.

I'd never been able to be this raw and primal with anyone before, and it felt so fucking right with her. I yanked hard and her flimsy panties tore easily. I tossed them to the floor, running my hands along her skin and sliding my fingers down her arms to her hands, and then finally to the place I wanted to be. Inside her, and she was so fucking ready for me as always.

I began to thrust in and out of her, forcing her to look out the window.

"Do you think he can make you feel this way?" I asked her roughly. My fingers thrusting harder and faster inside of her. I could feel how close she was.

I knew I was slipping. My walls were falling around me but I didn't care. I needed her to think of me tonight as she lay in bed. I wanted her to feel me when she closed her eyes and touched herself, remembering the way I'd fucked her. My free hand ran up her sides to her breast, cupping it and twisting her nipples.

"No," she moaned. "Never like this."

"Good" I groaned into her neck. "When you go downstairs, I want you to remember this. Remember what I did to you."Taking her hand in mine, I laced our fingers and moved them down her body to her clit, both our hands stroking and teasing.

"I'm the only one who can make you feel like this" I whispered seductively into her ear. She let out a muffled cry, the possible sound of my name, as her body tensed and then tightened all around my fingers. Her eyes closed and her lips relaxed into a satisfied sigh. I loved watching her climax, she looked even more beautiful afterwards and I was responsible for it. It made me happy. Content, even.

Slowly, she began to pull away, and I frowned at the loss of contact. I watched as she straightened her skirt, retrieved her bra, and attempted to retie the straps of her top. I grabbed the torn lace of her underwear, shoving it into my pocket. She was still struggling with her dress and I walked over, brushing her hands away and retying the straps without meeting her gaze.

The room was suddenly too small and we glanced at each other once in an uncomfortable silence. I reached for the knob, wanting to say something, anything, to fix this. How could I ask her to be only with me, and not expect anything else to change? Even I knew asking for that was likely to earn me a slap across the face. But the language for what I felt when I saw her with Liam wasn't crystallizing fast enough. My mind was blank. Frustrated, I opened the door. We both stopped short at the sight before us.

There, standing outside the doorway, arms folded and eyebrow raised knowingly, was Theo.


	7. Chapter 7

Karma's POV

The moment she opened the door and we came face-to-face with Theo, I froze.

"What exactly were you two doing in there?" he asked, his eyes moving between the two of us. A recap of all he could have heard flashed through my head, and I felt a burst of heat spread along my skin.

I chanced a look over to Miss Raudenfeld as she did the same, then turned back to Theo and shook my head. "Nothing, we needed to talk. That's all." I tried to play it off, but knew the tremor in my voice gave me away.

"Oh, I heard something in there, but it certainly wasn't talking," he said, smirking.

"Don't be ridiculous, Theo. We were discussing an issue at work," she said, trying to move around him.

"In the bathroom?" he asked.

"Yes. You sent me up here to find her. This is where I found her."

He shifted in front of her, blocking her path. "I'm a cop Amy, which means I can smell bullshit from a mile radius. We both know you don't discuss anything, you _fight_. So cut the crap. Are you two dating or something?"

"No!" We both yelled at once, our eyes meeting for a brief moment before quickly darting away.

"So. . . you're just fucking then," he said, and it seemed that neither of us could find the words to reply. The tension in that hallway was so heavy I briefly considered how much damage a jump from a third-story window could do. "For how long?"

"Theo . . ." she began, shaking her head, and for once I actually felt bad about her discomfort. I'd never seen her look like this before. It was as if all this time it really hadn't occurred to her that there could be consequences outside of our own turmoil.

"How long, Amy? Karma?" he said, looking between us.

"I—we just—" I started, but just what? How could I explain any of this? "We—"

"We made a mistake. It was a mistake." Her voice cut through my thoughts and I looked over to her in shock. Ouch, that surprisingly bothers me. I know she was right but hearing her say that actually…hurt.

I couldn't tear my eyes away as he began to speak. "Mistake or not, it needs to stop now. What if I'd been Farrah? And Amy, you're her boss! Have you forgotten that?" He exhaled deeply. "Look, you two are adults, and I don't know what's going on here, but whatever you do, do not let Hank find out."

"I won't tell Lauren so don't worry about it, she'll cut your head off Amy if she finds out and I don't want to arrest my own wife for murder " Theo said in a serious tone. Amy mumbled a faint "Thanks". She looked very embarrased of the whole situation.

A wave of nausea hit me at the idea of Hank or Lauren ever finding out about this, at how disappointed they'd be. I couldn't bear that. "That won't be a problem," I said, purposefully avoiding Amy's gaze. "I intend to learn from my mistake. Excuse me."

I moved past them and toward the stairs, anger and hurt settling like a lead weight deep in my stomach. The strength of my work ethic and motivation had always buoyed me through harder times in my life: breakups, the death of my mother, rough patches with friendships. My value as an employee at RMG was now tinged with self-doubt. Was I making her see me differently because I was fucking her? Now that she'd seemed to register—finally—that if others knew about us it could be bad for her, would she start to question my judgment more globally?

I was smarter than this. It was time I started acting like it.

I composed myself before stepping outside and returning to my seat beside Liam.

Everything all right?" he asked.

I turned my head, letting myself look at him for a moment. He was really quite cute: neatly combed dark brown hair, a kind face, and the most beautiful caramel eyes I'd ever seen. He was everything I should be looking for.

My gaze shot up a moment later as Miss Raudenfeld returned to the table with Theo, but I quickly looked away.

"Yeah, I'm just not feeling well," I said, turning back to Joel. "I think I might need to call it a night."

"Here," he said, standing to pull out my chair. "I'll walk you to your car."

I said my good-byes, feeling the unfamiliar shape of Joel's palm on the small of my back as we walked into the house. Once in the driveway, he gave me a shy smile and took my hand. "It was really nice meeting you, Karma. I'd like to call you sometime and maybe have that lunch."

"Let me see your phone," I said. Part of me felt bad for doing this, having been with Amy upstairs not even twenty minutes ago, and now giving my number to Liam, but it was time to move past this, and a lunch date with a nice guy seemed like a good place to start.

His smile widened as I handed him his phone, and he gave me his card in return. Taking my hand, he lifted it to his lips. "I'll call you Monday, then. Hopefully your flowers aren't completely wilted."

"It's the thought that counts," I said, smiling. "Thank you."

He looked so sincere, so happy at the simple possibility of seeing me again, and it occurred to me that I should be swooning, or giddy. I really just wanted to barf.

"I should go."

Liam nodded, opening my car door for me. "Of course. I hope you feel better. Drive carefully, and good night, Karma."

"Good night, Liam."

He closed my door and I started the engine, my eyes straight ahead as I drove away from my boss' family's house.

The next morning at yoga I considered spilling my guts to Shane. I'd felt reasonably certain I could handle things on my own, but after an entire night of staring at the ceiling and completely freaking out, I realized I needed to confide in someone.

There was Zita, and more than anyone Zita would understand how maddening my hot boss could be. But she also worked for Lauren and I didn't want to put her in an awkward position by asking her to keep such a huge secret. These were the times I really wished my mom were still alive. Just thinking about her brought a wrenching pain to my chest and tears to my eyes.

Could I tell Shane? I had to admit I was terrified of what she would think of me. But more than that, I was terrified of saying the words to someone out loud.

"Okay, you keep looking at me," he said. "Either you have something on your mind or I'm the embarrassing and gross kind of sweaty."

I tried to tell him nothing, I tried to brush it off and let him think he was being absurd. But I couldn't. The weight and the pressure of the last few weeks came crashing down and before I could control it, my chin started to tremble and I began bawling like a baby.

"That's what I thought. Come on." He offered me her hand and helped me up and, gathering our belongings on the way, led me out the door.

Twenty minutes, two mimosas, and one emotional breakdown later, I was watching Shane's shocked expression at a table in our favorite restaurant. I told her everything: the panty ripping, my liking the panty ripping, the various locations, the mid-make-out-session-I-hate-yous, Theo catching us, my guilt over feeling like I was betraying Hank, Liam and myself, Miss Raudenfeld's cavewoman declarations, and finally, my fear that I was in the most unhealthy relationship in the history of the world, with no power at all.

When I looked up to meet his gaze, I winced; he looked like he'd just watched a car wreck.

"Okay, let me make sure I've got this right"

I nodded waiting for him to continue.

"You're sleeping with your boss."

I cringed slightly. "Well, technically not—"

He threw his hand up to stop me from finishing. "Yeah, yeah. I got that. And this is the same boss you oh-so-lovingly refer to as 'Beautiful Bitch'?"

I sighed heavily and nodded again.

"But you hate her."

"Correct," I mumbled, my eyes shifting away from him. "Hate. Very big hate."

"You don't want to be with her, but you can't stay away."

"God, it sounds even worse to hear someone else say it," I groaned as I buried my face in my hands. "I sound ridiculous."

"But the sexytimes? Are good," he said with a touch of humor in her voice.

"Good doesn't even come close to describing it, Shane. Phenomenal, intense, mind-blowing, multiple-orgasmingly amazing doesn't come close to describing it."

"Is 'orgasmingly' even a word?"

I rubbed my face with my hands and sighed again. "Shut up."

"Well," he replied thoughtfully, clearing her throat "I guess not getting laid wasn't her problem after all…"

I let my head fall to my arms on the table. "No. No, it most definitely wasn't." I looked up slightly at the sound of her muffled laughter. "Shane! This is not funny!"

"I beg to differ. Even you have to see how insane this is. I mean, of all the people I've ever known, you're the last person I would have ever imagined ending up in this situation. You've always been so serious, with each and every step of your life so planned out. Come on, you've only had a few real boyfriends and girlfriends, all of whom you'd been with for what everyone considered a really silly amount of time before you slept with them. This woman must be something else."

"I know there's nothing wrong with having a purely sexual relationship with someone—I can handle that. And I know that I can at times be overly controlled, but it's the fact that I feel I have no control over myself when I'm with her that scares the shit out of me. I mean, I don't even like her, and yet . . . I keep going back for more, is really infuriating."

Shane took a sip of his mimosa, and I could practically see the wheels turning as he considered everything I'd told him. "What matters to you?"

I looked up to him, understanding. "My job. My life after this. My sense of value as an employee. Knowing my contribution matters.

"Can you feel good about those things and still fuck her?"

I shrugged, unable to actually untangle my thoughts on the matter. "I don't know. If I felt like everything was separate, maybe. But our only interactions are at work. There isn't any instance where it isn't about both work and sex."

"Then you have to find a way to stop doing this. You need to keep your distance."

"It's not that simple," I retorted, shaking my head and beginning to ramble. "I work for her. It's not as if all instances of being alone with her are easily avoidable. The number of times I've sworn off sex with her and then had sex with her hours later is ridiculous. And on top of that, we have a conference to attend in two weeks. Same hotel, same general vicinity at all times. Beds!"

"Karma, what has gotten into you?" Shane asked in an astonished tone "Do you want this to continue?"

"No! Of course not!"

He eyed me skeptically.

"I mean. . . it's just that I'm different with her. Like, I want things I've never wanted before, and maybe I should let myself want those things. I just wish it was someone else making me wants them, someone nice, like Liam for instance. The lady boss is not very nice."

"Lady Boss makes you want what? Like spankings and stuff?" Shane responded with a chuckle, but when I looked away I heard him gasp. "Oh my God, did she spank you?"

My wide eyes shot back to her. "A little louder, Shane. I don't think the guy in the back heard you." As soon as I was sure no one was looking, I smoothed loose tendrils of hair back from my forehead. "Look, I know I need to stop this but I—"

I paused as I felt goose bumps rise along my skin. My breath caught in my throat and I turned slowly to look at the door. It was her, casual and dressed down in a black T-shirt and skinny jeans, combat boots and hair even sexier than usual. I turned back around to face Shane, feeling all the blood drain from my face.

"Karma, what's wrong? You look like you've just seen a ghost," Shane said, reaching across the table to touch my arm.

I swallowed hard in an attempt to find my voice, and then looked at him. "Do you see that woman next to the door? The tall, blonde and good-looking one?" He raised his head slightly to look and I kicked him under the table. "Don't make yourself obvious! That is my boss."

Shane's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "Holy shit," he gasped, and shook his head as he looked her up and down. "You weren't kidding, Karma. That is one beautiful bitch. I think I became straight for a minute. I wouldn't kick her out of my bed. Or car. Or dressing room. Or elevator, or—"

Shane! You're really not being helpful here!"

"Who's the blonde?" he asked, motioning toward them. I turned back to see Miss Raudenfeld being led to a table with a tall, leggy blonde, her hand on the small of her back. A sharp stab of jealousy pressed into my chest.

"What a slut," I hissed. "After her behavior last night? She has got to be kidding me." Just as he was about to respond, Shane's phone rang and he reached for it from his pocket. The "Hey baby!" greeting told me it was his fiancé, and this would take awhile.

I glanced again at Miss Raudenfeld, talking and laughing with the blonde. I couldn't tear my eyes away. She was even more attractive in a relaxed setting: smiling, eyes dancing when she laughed. Bitch! As if she heard my thoughts, she lifted her head and our eyes locked. I clenched my jaw and turned away, tossing my napkin to the table. I had to get out of here. "I'll be right back, Shane."

He nodded and waved absently, never pausing his conversation. Standing up, I quickly made my way past her table making sure to avoid her eyes. I had just turned the corner and spotted the safety of the ladies' room door when I felt a strong hand on my forearm. "Wait."

That voice sent a jolt through me.

 _Okay, Karma, you can do this. Just turn around and look at her and tell her to fuck off. She's an asshole who called you a mistake last night and shows up with some blond bimbo today._

Straightening my shoulders, I turned to face her. Shit. She looked even better up close. "What the hell do you want?" I spat at her, pulling my arm free from her grasp. Without the benefit of my heels I felt like she towered over me. Looking up at her face, I could see faint circles under her eyes. She looked tired. Well, good. If her nights were half as bad as mine, I was happy.

Running her hands through her hair, she glanced around uncomfortably. "I wanted to talk to you. To explain about last night."

"What's there to explain?" I asked, nodding my head toward the dining room and the blonde still sitting at her table. My chest twisted tightly, painfully. "Change of scenery. I get it. I'm actually glad to see you here like this—it helps remind me why this thing between us is a terrible idea. I don't want to be indirectly fucking all of your other women."

"What the hell are you talking about?" she asked, looking back at me. "Are you talking about Emily?"

"Is that her name? Well, you and Emily have a lovely meal, Miss Raudenfeld." I turned to leave but was once again stopped when she grabbed my arm. "Let. Go."

"Why would you even care?"

Our argument had begun to attract attention from the staff passing through to the kitchen. After a quick glance around, she pulled me into the ladies' room and locked the door.

 _Fantastic, another bathroom._

I shoved her away when she stepped closer. "What do you think you're doing? And what do you mean, why would I care? You fucked me last night, told me all about how I couldn't possibly want to go out with Liam, and now you're here with someone else! I let myself forget you're a womanizer. Your behavior is completely expected—I'm pissed at myself." I was so angry my nails were practically cutting into the palms of my hands.

"You think I'm here on a date?" She exhaled heavily, shaking her head. "This is unbelievable. Emily is just a friend. She runs a charitable organization that Raudenfeld Media supports. That's all. I was supposed to meet her Monday to sign some papers but she had a last-minute flight change and is leaving the country this afternoon. I haven't been with anyone else since the con—" She paused to rethink her words. "Since we first . . . you know . . ." She finished, motioning vaguely between us.

 _What?_

We stood there, staring at each other as I tried to let her words seep in. She hadn't slept with anyone else. Was that even possible? I knew for a fact that she was a player. I'd personally witnessed her ever-expanding collection of arm candy at corporate events, not to mention the stories swimming around the building. And even if what she was saying was true, it didn't change the fact that she was still my boss, and this whole thing was seriously wrong.

"All those women throwing themselves at you and you haven't nailed even one? Aw, I'm touched." I turned for the door.

"It's not that difficult to believe," she growled, and I could feel her eyes burning into my back.

"You know what, it doesn't matter. It was just a mistake, right?"

"Look, that's what I wanted to talk to you about." She moved closer and her scent—like honey and sage—washed over me. I suddenly felt trapped, like there wasn't enough oxygen in the tiny room. I needed to get out of here, now. What had Shane said less than five minutes ago? Don't be alone with her? Good advice. I happened to like this particular pair of panties and didn't really want to see them in tatters in her pocket.

 _Okay, that was a lie._

"Are you seeing Liam again?" she asked from behind me. My hand was on the knob. All I had to do was turn it and I was safe. But I froze, staring at that damn door for what seemed like minutes.

"Does it matter?"

"I thought we covered this last night," she said, her breath warm against my hair.

"Yeah, a lot of things were said last night." Her fingertips moved up my arm and slipped the thin strap of my tank top off my shoulder.

"I didn't mean to say this was a mistake," she whispered against my skin. "I just panicked."

"That doesn't mean it's not true." My body instinctively leaned into her, my head tilting slightly allowing her easier access. "We both know it."

"I still shouldn't have said it." She brushed my ponytail over my shoulder and her soft lips moved across my back. "Turn around."

Two words. How was it possible that two simple words could make me question everything? It was one thing for her to press me against a wall or forcefully grab me, but now she was putting everything in my court. Biting my lip hard, I tried to bring myself to turn the handle. My hand actually twitched before it fell to my side in defeat.

I turned and looked up to meet her eyes.

Her hand came to rest on my cheek, her thumb brushing across my bottom lip. Our gazes locked, and just when I thought I couldn't wait one more second she pulled me to her, pressing her mouth to mine.

The moment we kissed, my body gave up fighting and I couldn't get close enough. My purse landed on the tile floor at my feet and my hands dove into his hair, pulling him to me. She backed me into the wall and ran her hands down my body, lifting me slightly. She pushed into my yoga pants and cupped my ass.

"Fuck. What are you wearing?" She groaned into my neck, her palms sliding back and forth over the pink satin. Lifting me fully, she wrapped my legs around her waist and pressed me further into the wall. She moaned as I took her earlobe between my teeth.

Pulling one side of my top down, she sucked one of my nipples into her mouth. My head fell back and hit the wall as I felt her soft face against my breast. A shrill sound broke through my haze and I heard her swear. My phone. Placing me on my feet, she stepped away, her face already back in its usual scowl. I quickly rearranged my clothing and reached for my purse, grimacing when I saw the picture displayed on the screen.

"Shane," I answered breathlessly.

"Karma, are you in the bathroom fucking that nice slice of candy lady?"

"I'll be there in a second, okay?" I ended the call and shoved the phone back into my bag. I looked up at her, feeling my rational side return after the small interruption. "I should go."

"Look, I—" She was cut off as my phone rang again.

I answered without bothering to look at the screen. "God, Shane! I'm not in here fucking the piece of candy lady!"

"Karma?" Liam's confused voice sounded through the phone.

"Oh . . . hi." Shit. This could not be happening to me.

"I'm glad to hear that you're not . . . fucking . . . candy lady?" Liam said, laughing tightly.

"Who is it?" Amy growled.

I pressed my hand to her lips and gave her the dirtiest look I could manage. "Look, I can't really talk right now."

"Yeah, I'm sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but I couldn't stop thinking about you. And I don't want to get anyone in trouble or anything, but right after you left I checked my e-mail and there was a confirmation for delivery of your flowers."

"Really?" I asked, feigning interest. My gaze was locked with Amy's.

"Well, it seems they were signed for Amy Raudenfeld."


	8. Chapter 8

Amy's POV

I watched as several expressions passed over her face at once: embarrassment, annoyance, and then . . . curiosity? I could vaguely make out a man's voice on the other end and felt the cavewoman begin to awaken. Who the hell was calling her?

Suddenly, her eyes narrowed, and a tiny voice inside told me I should be nervous. "Well, thank you so much for letting me know. Yes. Yes, I will. Okay. Yes, I'll call you when I decide. Thanks for calling, Liam."

Liam? _Fucking Booker_

She ended the call and slowly put the phone back into her purse. Looking down, she shook her head, a small laugh escaping before a wicked smile graced her mouth.

"Is there anything you'd like to tell me, Miss Raudenfeld?" she asked sweetly, and for some reason it made me even more anxious. I racked my brain but couldn't think of anything. What was she talking about?

"That was the strangest conversation. It seems that when Liam checked his e-mail this morning, he had a delivery confirmation for my flowers. You'll never guess what it said."

She moved one step toward me, and instinctively I moved one step back. I didn't like where this was going. "It turns out that someone signed for them."

Oh, shit.

"The name on the slip said Amy Raudenfeld."

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why the hell did I sign my own name? I tried to think of a response but my mind was suddenly blank. Obviously, my silence told her everything she needed to know.

You bitch! You signed for them and then lied to me?" She landed a hard shove on my chest. Why did you do that?" My back was now against the wall and I was frantically searching for an alternative exit.

"I . . . what?" I babbled. My heart felt like it was going to claw its way out of my chest.

"Seriously! What the hell?"

I needed an answer and I needed it fast. Running my hands through my hair for the hundredth time in the last five minutes, I decided it was probably better to just come clean.

"I don't know, okay?" I shouted back. "I just . . . fuck!"

She took out her phone and appeared to be texting someone.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I'm telling Shane to just go on without me. I'm not leaving here until you tell me the truth." She glared at me and I could feel the anger coming off of her in waves. I briefly considered telling Emily what was going on, but she'd seen me follow Karma; I was pretty sure she'd figured it out by now.

"Well?"

I met her eyes and let out a deep sigh. There was absolutely no way I could explain myself and not sound like I'd lost my mind. "Okay, yes, I signed for them."

She stared at me, her chest heaving and her fists balled so tightly that her knuckles were white. "And?"

"And . . . I threw them away." As I stood facing her, I realized that I deserved every bit of her anger. I was being unfair. I was offering her nothing but still standing in the way of someone who could possibly make her happy.

"You are fucking unbelievable," she growled through clenched teeth. I knew she was doing everything she could to keep from lunging across the room and pummeling me. "Explain to me why you would do that."

Here was the part I didn't know how to answer. "Because . . ." I scratched the back of my head. I hated that I'd let myself get into this situation. "Because I don't want you to go out with Liam."

"Who in the hell do you think you are? Just because we've had sex does not mean you get to make decisions in my life. We aren't a couple, we aren't dating. Hell, we don't even like each other!" she yelled.

"You think I don't know that? It doesn't make any sense, okay? But when I saw those flowers . . . come on, they were fucking roses!"

She looked as if she were ready to have me committed somewhere. "And you say I'm the one who needs medication. What does the fact that they were roses have to do with anything?"

"Because you hate them, you hate roses!" When I said this, her face fell, eyes soft and dark. I rambled on. "I just saw them and reacted. I didn't stop and think about it. Just the thought of him touching you . . ." My fists clenched at my sides and my voice trailed off as I tried to regain my composure. I was getting angrier by the second: at myself for being weak and letting my emotions get out of hand, again, and at her for having this fucking inexplicable hold on me.

"Okay, look," she said, taking a calming breath. "I'm not saying I agree with what you did, but I understand. . . to a point."

My eyes flew to her in shock.

"I would be lying if I said I haven't been feeling similarly possessive," she said reluctantly.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Did she actually just admit to me that she felt this way too?

"But that doesn't change the fact that you lied to me. You lied right to my face. I might think you're an arrogant bitch most of the time, but you've always been someone I trusted to be honest with me."

I flinched. She was right.

"I'm sorry." My apology hung in the air, and I wasn't sure which of us was more surprised by it.

"Prove it." She looked at me so calmly, not an ounce of emotion visible in her features. What did she mean? Then, it hit me. _Prove it._ We couldn't speak through words, because words only led to trouble. But this? This is what we were, and if she would give me this one chance to make up for what I'd done, I'd take it.

I hated her so much in that moment. I hated that she was right and I was wrong, and I hated that she was forcing me to make a choice. I hated how much I wanted her, most of all.

I closed the distance between us, wrapping my hand around the back of her neck. I pulled her to me, meeting her gaze as I drew her mouth to mine. There was an unspoken challenge there. Neither of us would back down nor admit that this—whatever this was—was beyond our control.

Or maybe both of us just had.

The moment our lips touched, I was overtaken by a familiar buzz coursing through my body.

My hands fisted deeply into her hair, forcing her head back, to take everything I pressed into her. This might be for her, but I was damn sure going to control it. Pressing my body to hers, I groaned at the way each of her curves fit against me. I wanted this need to go away, to be satisfied and move on; but each time I felt her, it was better than I remembered.

Falling to my knees, I grasped her hips and pulled her closer, my lips moving across the waist of her pants. Lifting her shirt up, I kissed each inch of visible skin, enjoying the tensing of her muscles as I explored. I looked up at her, hooking my fingers into the waistband. Her eyes were closed and she was biting her lower lip.

I pulled her pants down her thighs, goose bumps breaking out over her skin as I trailed my fingers down her legs. Her hands went to my hair and pulled roughly, and I groaned as I looked back up at her. I traced the edge of the delicate satin of her lingerie, stopping at the thin straps on her hips. "These are almost too pretty to ruin," I said, wrapping one strap around each hand.

"Almost." With a quick tug they broke easily, allowing me to pull the pink material away and stuff it into my pocket.

A sense of urgency took over me then, and I quickly freed one of her legs, placing it over my shoulder and kissing along the soft skin of her inner thigh.

"Oh, shit," she said on an exhale, running her hands into my hair. "Oh, shit, please."

As I first nuzzled and then slowly licked along her clit, she gripped my hair tightly, moving her hips against my mouth. Unintelligible words fell from her lips in a hoarse whisper, and seeing her come undone so completely made me realize she was as helpless against this as I was. She was pissed at me, so pissed that part of her probably wanted to hook her leg around my neck and strangle me, but at least she was letting me give her something that was, in many ways, so much more intimate than simple fucking. I was on my knees, but she was vulnerable and bare.

She was also warm and wet and tasted just as fucking sweet as she looked.

"I could fucking consume you," I whispered, pulling back enough to glance up at her expression. Kissing her hip, I murmured, "This would be so much better if I could spread you out somewhere. A table in a conference room, perhaps."

She tugged on my hair, pulling me back to her with a smile. "This is working just fine for me. Don't you fucking dare to stop now."

I almost admitted aloud that I couldn't, and I was starting to abhor the thought of even trying but soon was lost in her skin again. I wanted to memorize every curse and plea that escaped her mouth and know that I was the reason for it. I moaned against her, causing her to cry out as she twisted her body closer. Sliding two fingers inside her, I pulled on her hip with the other hand to urge her to find her rhythm with me. She began rolling her hips, slowly at first, pressing into me, and then faster. I could feel her tense: her legs, her abdomen, and her hands in my hair.

"So close," she panted, her movements faltering, growing jagged and a little wild, and fuck if I didn't feel a little wild myself. I wanted to bite and suck, bury my fingers inside and completely unravel her. I worried I was growing too rough, but her breaths turned into little pants and tightened into pleas. When I twisted my wrist and pushed in deeper, she cried out, legs shaking as her climax overtook her.

Rubbing her hip, I slowly lowered her leg and watched her feet just in case she decided to kick me after all. I ran a finger across my lip and watched her eyes return to focus.

She pushed me away and quickly righted her clothing, looking down at where I kneeled in front of her. Reality crept back as the various sounds of people dining on the other side of the door combined with the sound of our heavy breathing.

"You're not forgiven," she said and reached down for her purse, unlocking the door and leaving the room without another word.

I stood up slowly and watched the door close behind her, trying to sort out what had just happened. I should have been furious. But I felt the corner of my mouth lift in a smile and I almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

Damn her, she did it again. She was beating me at my own game.

My night had been hell. I'd hardly slept or eaten, and I'd suffered near-constant wetness since leaving the restaurant yesterday. I knew what was waiting for me at work. Miss Ashcroft was going to do everything she could to torture and punish me for lying to her and the strange part about it? I was kind of looking forward to it. Sick,right?

I was surprised to find her desk empty upon my arrival. _Weird_ , I thought, she was rarely late. I continued into my office and began getting things in order for the day. Fifteen minutes later, I was distracted from a phone call when I heard the outer door slam. Well, she certainly didn't disappoint; I could hear drawers and files slamming and knew this would make for an interesting day

At ten fifteen I was interrupted by my intercom. "Miss Raudenfeld" Her cool voice filled the room and despite her obvious annoyance, I found myself smirking as I pressed the button to respond.

"Yes, Miss Ashcroft?" I answered back, hearing my own grin reflected in my tone.

"We need to be in the conference room in fifteen minutes. You'll need to leave at noon to make the lunch meeting with the president of Kelly Industries at twelve thirty. Stuart will be waiting for you in the garage."

"Are you not accompanying me?" Part of me wondered if she was avoiding being alone with me. I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

"No, Miss. Management only." I heard papers rustling as she continued to speak. "Besides, I have arrangements to make for San Diego today."

"I'll be out in a moment," I let my finger slide off the button, standing to adjust my tie and jacket.

When I stepped out of my office, my eyes landed on her immediately. Any doubts I might have had about her making me suffer were confirmed. She was leaning over her desk in a blue silk dress that showcased her long lean legs perfectly. Her hair was piled on her head, and when she turned in my direction, I saw she was wearing her glasses. How was I going to manage to speak coherently with her sitting next to me?

"Are you ready, Miss Raudenfeld?" Without waiting for an answer, she gathered her things and began walking down the hall. There seemed to be more sway to her hips today. The sassy bitch was taunting me.

Standing in the crowded elevator, our bodies were unintentionally pressed together and I had to stifle a groan. It could have been my imagination but I thought I saw a hint of a smirk on her face. She knew how much she affected me. Having her so close to me and not be able to do something about it was her sweetest revenge.

For the next two hours, I was in my own personal hell. Every time I looked at her she was doing something to bring me to my knees: sly glances, licking her bottom lip, crossing and uncrossing her legs, or absentmindedly twirling a tendril of hair around her finger. At one point, she dropped her pen and casually placed her hand on my thigh as she bent down to retrieve it from under the table.

At the lunch meeting that followed, I was both grateful for the reprieve from her torment and desperate to get back to it. I nodded and spoke at appropriate times, but I was never really there. Of course my father had noticed every second of my surly, quiet mood. On the drive back to the office, he started in on me.

"For three days, you and Karma will be together in San Diego without the buffer of office doors, and there won't be anyone there to run interference. I expect you to treat her with the utmost respect. And before you get defensive," he added, holding his hands up as he sensed my quick rebuttal, "I've already spoken to Karma about this."

My eyes widened and flashed to his face. He had talked to Miss Ashcroft about my professional conduct?

"Yes, I'm aware that it's not just you," he said, leading us into an empty elevator. "She's assured me that she gives every bit as good as she gets. Why do you think I suggested you as her program mentor in the first place? There wasn't a doubt in my mind that she could hold her own with you."

Lauren stood silent next to him, a smug smile stretched across her face. Bitch.

I frowned slightly as the realization hit me: she had spoken in my defense. She could have easily made it sound like I was a tyrant, but instead she accepted some of the blame.

"Dad, I'll admit that that my relationship with her is unconventional," I began, praying that no one understood how true that statement really was. "But I assure you, it in no way interferes with our ability to conduct business. You have nothing to worry about."

"Good," Dad said when we arrived at my office suite.

We walked in to find Miss Ashcroft on the phone, speaking almost inaudibly. "Well, I'm going to let you go, Dad. I have some things to take care of and I'll let you know as soon as I can. Tell Aunt Kathy to get some sleep, okay?" she said softly. After a brief pause she laughed, but then didn't say anything else for a moment. Neither I nor the two men beside me dared say anything. "I love you too, Daddy."

My stomach tightened at the words, and the way her voice shook when she said them. When she turned around in her chair, she startled to find us standing there. Quickly she began gathering the paperwork on her desk.

"How did the meeting go?"

"It went smoothly, as always," my father said. "You and Zita really do a superb job taking care of things. I don't know what Amy and Lauren would do without the two of you."

Her eyebrow lifted slightly and I could see her struggling to not gloat in my direction. But then her face transformed into a puzzled expression and I realized I'd been full-on grinning at her, hoping to see some of her trademark sass. I put on the best scowl I could manage as I walked into my office. It only hit me when I closed my door that I hadn't seen her smile once since we'd come back and heard her on the phone.

Karma's POV

My head wasn't in the game. I had a few things to show Miss Raudenfeld before she left for the day, had to get some documents to legal for signatures, but I felt like I was walking through wet sand, the phone conversation with my dad looping endlessly through my thoughts. As I walked into Miss Raudenfeld's office, stared down at the papers in my arms, realizing how many things I'd need to organize today: plane tickets, someone to pick up my mail, maybe even a temp for while I was gone. How long would I be gone?

I registered Miss Raudenfeld was saying something—loudly—in my direction. What was she saying? She came into focus in front of me and I heard the end of her rant, ". . . barely paying attention. Jesus, Miss Ashcroft, do I need to write this down for you?"

"Can we not do this today?" I asked, tired

"Do what?" she asked confused.

"This bitch-boss routine"

Her eyes widened, brows drawing together. "Excuse me?"

"Look, I know how much it turns you on being an epic bitch with me, and I'll admit that sometimes it's actually kind of hot and turns me on as well but today I'm having the worst day in my life so I'll really appreciate if you just shut the fuck up. Like, don't speak to me at all" I was close to tears, my chest constricting painfully. "Please."

She looked like she'd been blindsided, blinking rapidly as she stared. Finally, she spluttered, "What just happened?"

I swallowed, regretting my tantrum. Things were always better with her when I kept my wits. "I overreacted to being yelled at. I apologize."

She got up and began walking toward me, but at the last minute she stopped and sat down on the corner of her desk, fiddling awkwardly with a crystal paperweight. "No, what I mean is, why is your day being so horrible? Did something happen to you? Her voice was softer than I'd ever heard it outside of sex. Except this time, she wasn't quiet to keep a secret; she was quiet because she seemed genuinely concerned.

I didn't want to talk to her about this because part of me expected her to mock me. But an even larger part was beginning to suspect that she wouldn't. "Nothing happened to me. Is my Aunt, my mother's only sister, she's having trouble eating. She has to have some test"

Miss Raudenfeld's face fell. "Eating? Is it an ulcer?"

I explained what I knew, that it had started suddenly and an early scan showed a small mass on her esophagus.

"Can you go to Austin?"

I stared at her. "I don't know. Can I?"

She winced, blinked away. "Am I really that big of a bitch with you?

"Most of the time" I immediately regretted it, because no, she'd never done anything to make me think she'd keep me from my sick aunt. She was the only connection I had left with my mother.

She nodded, swallowing thickly as she stared out the window. "You can take whatever time you need, of course."

"Thank you."

I stared at the floor, waiting for her to continue with the list of the day's tasks. But silence engulfed the room instead. I could see in my peripheral vision that she'd turned back and was watching me.

"Are you okay?" She'd said it so quietly I wasn't even sure I heard her right.

I considered lying, wrapping up this most awkward of conversations. Instead, I said, "Not really."

Her hand reached up, dug into her hair. "Close my office door," she said.

I nodded, oddly disappointed to be so quietly dismissed. "I'll bring the notes from legal for—"

"I mean close the door, but stay."

Oh.

 _Oh._

I turned, walking across the plush carpet in complete silence. Her office door closed with a heavy click.

"Lock it."

I turned the lock and felt her move closer until her breath fanned warm across the back of my neck.

"Please let me touch you. Let me make you feel good"

She understood. She knew me and knew that I needed a distraction, a relief, pleasure in the face of uncertainty. I didn't reply to her because I didn't need to. My actions spoke louder; I'd closed and locked the door of her office that was all the answer she needed.

But then I felt her lips, soft and pressing against my shoulder, up my neck. "You smell . . . amazing," she said, untying my dress where it fastened behind my neck. "I always smell like you for hours afterward."

She didn't add whether that was a good thing or a bad thing and I found that I didn't care. I liked that she smelled me even when I'd gone.

With her hands sliding to my hips, she turned me to face her and bent to kiss me in a single, smooth movement. This was different. Her mouth was soft, almost asking. There was nothing tentative about the kiss—there was never anything tentative about her—but this kiss almost felt more adoring and less like a battle being lost.

She pushed my dress from my shoulders and it pooled at my feet as she stepped back, giving just enough room to let the cool air of her office wash her heat from my skin.

"You're so beautiful."

Before I could process the soft delivery of these new words she threw me a smirk and leaned to kiss me as she grabbed my panties, twisted and ripped them.

This, we knew.

I reached for her pants but she stepped away, shaking her head. Her breath grew faster on my cheek and her fingers were somehow careful and hard, her words coming out soft, filthy, telling me I was beautiful, I was so dirty. Telling me I was a tease, and how good I made her feel.

She told me how much she craved the way I sound when I come.

And even when I did, all I could think was that I wanted to touch her too. That I wanted to hear her get lost in me the same way. So that's what I did. I touched and tasted every part of her body thoroughly. I made her come with my fingers, my mouth and my kisses. I devoured her entirely and it was so very worth it.


	9. Chapter 9

Amy's POV

When Thursday morning dawned, I knew we needed to talk. I would be away from the office all day Friday, so today was our last day together before she left town. She'd been meeting with her advisor all morning, and I felt myself getting more and more anxious about well. . . everything. I was pretty sure the interaction in my office the day before revealed to us both that she was slowly taking more and more of me and I was doing the same with her. I wanted to be with her almost all of the time, and not just for the sex. I genuinely wanted to be near her, to get to know everything about her but my own need for self-preservation had been plaguing me all week.

What had she said? _I don't want to want you. This thing is not good for me._ Only when Theo caught us in the act, well almost in the act, I truly understood what she meant. I'd hated my desire for her because it was the first time in my life I was unable to push something out of my head and focus on work, but no one—not even my family—would really blame me for being attracted to Karma. In contrast, she would forever be tainted with the reputation of being the woman who slept her way to the top. For someone as brilliant and driven as she was, that association would be a constant—and painful—thorn in her side.

She was right to put distance between us. This pull we felt when we were together was entirely unhealthy. Nothing good could come from it, and I decided once again to use our time apart to regain my focus. When I entered my office after lunch I was surprised to find her seated at her desk busily working on the computer.

"I didn't know you would be in this afternoon," I said, trying to keep any emotion from my voice.

"Yes, I had some last-minute arrangements to handle for San Diego, and I still needed to discuss my absence with you," she said, never looking up from her computer monitor.

"Would you like to step into my office, then?"

"No," she said quickly. "I think we can handle this out here." Peeking up at me with a sly look she motioned to the chair opposite her. "Would you like to have a seat, Miss?

"I know you'll be out tomorrow, so there's no reason for me to be here. I realize you don't like having an assistant, but I've arranged for you to have a temp while I'm gone for two weeks, and I've already given Zita a detailed list of your schedule and the things you'll need. I doubt there will be any problems, but just in case, she's promised to keep an eye on you." She raised a brow in challenge and I rolled my eyes in return.

She continued, "You have my numbers, including the number of my aunt's home in Austin, if you need anything." She began going through a list in front of her, and I noticed how cool and efficient she was. It's not that I wasn't already aware of these things, but somehow it seemed a bit more apparent to me right now. Our eyes met and she continued, "I'll get into California a few hours before you, so I'll just plan on picking you up at the airport."

We continued to stare at each other for a few moments, and I was almost positive that our thoughts were the same: San Diego would be a colossal test.

The atmosphere in the room began to shift slowly, the silence saying more than words ever could. I clenched my jaw tightly as I noticed that her breathing had picked up. It took every bit of willpower I had to not walk around the desk and kiss her.

"Have a nice trip, Miss Ashcroft," I said, pleased that my voice betrayed none of my inner turmoil. I stood and lingered for a moment, adding, "So, I'll meet you in San Diego then."

"Yes."

I nodded and walked into my office, shutting the door behind me. I didn't see her for the rest of the day and our terse good-bye for once felt completely wrong.

All weekend I thought about what it would be like to have her gone for two weeks. On the one hand, it would be nice to enjoy a full day at work without the distraction. On the other, I wondered if it would feel odd not having her there. She'd been a near constant in my life for almost a year, and regardless of our differences, it had become comforting to have her around.

Zita entered my office on Monday at nine o'clock sharp, smiling brightly as she approached me. She was followed by an attractive, twenty-something brunette who was introduced as Kelsey, my new temporary assistant. She looked up at me with a somewhat timid smile, and I saw Zita place a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

I decided that I would use this as an opportunity. I would prove to everyone that my reputation was simply a result of working with someone as headstrong as Miss Ashcroft.

It's very nice to meet you, Kelsey," I said, smiling widely and offering her my hand to shake. She looked at me strangely, with a sort of glazed expression.

"It's nice to meet you too, Miss," she said as she glanced back at Zita. Zita looked down at my hand quizzically and back up to me before speaking to Kelsey.

"Okay. Well, we've already gone over everything that Karma left. Here's your desk." She led the temp over to Miss Ashcroft's chair.

A strange feeling crept over me at the image of someone else sitting there. I felt my smile falter and I turned to Zita. "If she needs anything she'll let you know. I'll be in my office."

Kelsey quit before lunch. Apparently I came off "a bit gruff" when she managed to start a small fire in the break room microwave. The last I saw of her, she was in tears and sprinting out my door, wailing something about a hostile work environment.

The second temp, a young man named Oliver, came in around two o'clock. Oliver seemed highly intelligent, and I looked forward to working with someone other than an emotional female. I found myself smiling at the sudden turn of events. Unfortunately, I spoke too soon.

Every time I passed Oliver at his computer he was online, looking at captioned pictures of cats or watching a TV show about two best friends pretending to be lesbians. How ridiculous, they were obviously in love with each other. He would quickly minimize the window, but unfortunately for Oliver I wasn't a complete idiot. I diplomatically asked him to not bother returning the next day.

The third was no better. Her name was Reagan; she talked too much, her clothing was too tight, and the way she gnawed on the cap of her pen made her look like an animal trying to free itself from a trap. It was nothing like the way Miss Ashcroft would pensively hold the end of her pen between her teeth when she was deep in thought. That was subtle and sexy; this was nothing short of obscene. Unacceptable. She was gone by Tuesday afternoon.

The week continued on in much the same way. I went through five different assistants. I heard the booming laugh of my stepsister in the hall outside my office on more than one occasion. Bitch. She didn't even work on this floor. I began to feel that people were enjoying my misery a bit too much and maybe even saw it as a case of reaping what I sowed.

Although I had absolutely no doubt that Miss Ashcroft had already been informed of my temp nightmares by Zita, I received several texts from her throughout the first week, checking on how things were going. I began looking forward to them, even checking my phone periodically to see if I might have missed an alert. I hated to admit it, but at this point I would have traded my car just to have her and her harpy disposition back.

Besides missing her body, which I did desperately, I also missed the fire between us. She knew I was a bitch, and she put up with it. I had no idea why, but she did. I felt my respect for her professionalism grow during that first week apart.

When the second week went by without a single text from her, I found myself wondering what she was doing and with whom she was doing it. I wondered briefly if she'd had any more phone calls with Liam. I was pretty sure they hadn't seen each other again, and she and I had managed to reach a precarious cease-fire regarding the flower incident. Still, I wondered if he'd ever called to follow up and whether he would try to begin something when she was home.

Home. Was she at home now, with her aunt? Or did she think of Chicago as home? For the first time, it occurred to me that if her aunt was very sick, she might decide to move back to Austin to be with her. The idea frightened me. I knew I was being selfish but I didn't want her to leave.

I started packing for my flight on Sunday night and heard my phone chirp from the bed next to my suitcase. I felt a small thrill reading her name on the screen.

 _K: Pick you up tomorrow 11:30. Terminal B near arrival screens. Text when you land._

I paused for a moment as it sank in that we would be together tomorrow.

 _Me: I will. Thanks._

 _K: You're welcome. Everything go ok?_

I was a bit taken aback that she had asked about the rest of my week. We were in such uncharted territory here. While working, we texted and e-mailed frequently, but it was usually restricted to simple yes or no answers. Never anything personal. Was it possible she'd had a similarly frustrating week?

 _Me: Great. You? How is your aunt?_

I laughed as I pushed send; this situation kept getting stranger. Less than a minute later I received another one.

 _K: She's doing fine. I've missed her but am excited to come home._

Home. I noted her word choice and swallowed; my chest was suddenly too tight.

 _Me: See you tomorrow._

Setting the alarm on my phone, I placed it on the nightstand and sat next to my luggage on the bed. I would see her in less than twelve hours.

And I wasn't entirely sure how I felt about that.

Karma's POV

Just as I'd hoped, the flight to San Diego had given me time to think. I felt loved and rested after my visit with my aunt. After her appointment with the gastroenterologist put us both at ease that the tumor was benign, we'd spent time together talking and reminiscing about Mom, even planning a trip for her to come out to Chicago.

By the time she kissed me good-bye, I felt as prepared as possible considering the situation. I was nervous as hell to face Miss Raudenfeld again, but I'd given myself my best pep talk. I'd done some online shopping and had a suitcase full of new power panties. I'd thought long and hard about my options, and I was pretty sure I had a plan.

The first step was to admit that this problem was more than just the temptation of proximity. Being a thousand miles apart had done nothing to calm my need. I'd dreamed of her nearly every night, waking each morning frustrated and lonely. I spent far too much time thinking about what she was doing, wondering if she was as confused as me, and trying to glean every bit of information I could from Zita about how things were going back home.

Zita and I had an interesting conversation when she'd called and informed me of the status of my replacement. I'd laughed hysterically hearing about the revolving door of temps. Of course Amy was having a hard time keeping anyone around. She was an asshole.

I was used to her mood swings and bitchy attitude; professionally our relationship ran like clockwork. It was the personal side that was a nightmare. Almost everyone knew it; they just didn't know the extent of the situation.

I thought back often to our last day together. Something in our relationship was shifting, and I wasn't sure how I felt about it. No matter how many times we said it would never happen again, it would. I was terrified that this woman, who was all wrong for me, had more control over my body than I did, no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise.

I didn't want to be the woman who sacrificed her ambitions for another person.

Standing in the arrival area, I gave myself one last pep talk. I could do this. Oh, God, I hoped I could do this. The butterflies in my stomach were working overtime and I briefly worried I might throw up.

Her plane had been delayed in Chicago and it was after six thirty before she finally touched down in San Diego. While the time on the plane out had been good for thinking, the seven extra hours waiting afterward had only reignited my nerves.

I stood on my tiptoes trying to get a better view through the crowd, but didn't see her. Looking down at my phone, I reread her text again.

 _A: Just landed—see you in a few._

There was nothing sentimental about the text, but it made my stomach flip anyway. Our messages last night had been the same. It wasn't that we said anything special: I'd simply asked how the rest of her week had gone. That wouldn't be considered unusual in any other relationship, but it was totally new for us. Maybe there was a chance we could actually get past the constant animosity and actually be, what— _friends_? Yeah, sure Ashcroft like you could ever be just friends with her.

With my stomach in knots, I paced back and forth, willing my mind to switch gears and my heart rate to calm. Without thinking, I stopped midstep and turned toward the oncoming crowd, searching through the sea of unknown faces. My breath caught in my throat when a head of familiar hair appeared above the others.

 _Get ahold of yourself, Karma. Jeez._

I tried once more to get my body under control and looked up again. _Fuck. I am so screwed._ There she was, looking better than I'd ever seen her. How the hell does someone get hotter in nine days, and coming off of an airplane no less?

She stood nearly a head taller than anyone around her, the kind of tall that stands out in a crowd, and I gave thanks to the universe for that. Her blonde hair was perfectly in place as always and she was wearing my favorite suit. The Prada suit, which fits her in all the right places. If she wasn't so successful in her career she'd probably be a hell of a runaway model.

She'd been looking down at the ground, but the moment our eyes met, her face split into the most genuinely happy smile I'd ever seen. Before I could stop it, I felt my own smile explode, wide and giddy.

She stopped in front of me, a slightly tenser look taking over her features, while both of us waited for the other to say something.

"Hi," I said awkwardly, trying to ease some of the tension between us. Every part of me wanted to pull her into the ladies' room, but somehow I doubted that was the proper way to great your boss. Not that that had ever mattered before.

"Um, hi," she answered, her brow furrowed slightly.

 _Fuck, snap out of it, Karma!_ We both turned, heading toward the baggage claim, and I felt goose bumps spread across my skin just being near her.

"How was your flight?" I asked, knowing how much she hated flying commercial airlines, even if it was first class. This was so ridiculous. I wished she would just say something asinine so I could go back to yelling at her.

She thought about it for a moment before answering, "It was pleasant enough, once we actually got off the ground. I don't like how crowded the planes are." We stopped and waited, surrounded by bustling people, but the only thing I noticed was the tension building between us, and every inch of space between our bodies. "And your aunt's health?" she asked a moment later.

I nodded. "Benign. Thanks for asking."

"Of course."

Minutes passed in uncomfortable silence and I was more than a bit relieved when I saw her luggage slide down the conveyor belt. We both reached for it at the same time and our hands touched briefly on the handle. Pulling back, I glanced up to find she was watching me.

My stomach dropped at the familiar look of hunger in her eyes. We both muttered apologies and I looked away, but not before noticing the slight smirk on her face. Fortunately, it was time to pick up the rental car, and we headed to the parking garage.

She looked pleased as we approached the luxury rental, a Benz SLS AMG. She loved to drive—well, she loved to drive fast—and I always made a point of ordering something fun for her when she needed a car.

"Very nice, Miss Ashcroft," she said, her hand sliding along the hood. "Remind me to think about giving you a raise."

And there she was. I felt the familiar desire to punch her spread through my body and it calmed me. Everything was so much clearer when she was being an outright bitch.

Pressing the button to release the trunk I gave her a reproachful look and stepped aside for her to put her things away. She took off her jacket and handed it to me. I shoved it into the trunk.

"Careful," she admonished

"I'm not a freaking bellhop. Put your own damn coat away."

She laughed and bent to lift her suitcase. "Christ, I'd just wanted you to hold it for a moment."

"Oh." With cheeks flushed at my overreaction, I reached in and grabbed the coat, smoothing it over my arm. "Sorry."

"Why do you always assume I'm being a jerk?"

"Because you usually are?"

With another laugh, she hoisted the suitcase into the trunk. "You must have missed me a lot."

I started to answer but got distracted by how beautiful she looked it. She closed the trunk with a slam, breaking me out of my daze, and I placed the keys in her waiting hand. She walked over and opened my door, waiting for me to be seated before closing it behind me.

We drove in silence, the only sound provided by the purr of the engine and the GPS calling out directions to the hotel. I busied myself going over our schedule, trying to ignore the woman next to me.

I wanted to look at her, to study her face. I wanted to reach out and touch her, to tell her to pull over and touch me.

All these thoughts ran through my mind, making it impossible to concentrate on the papers in front of me. The time apart hadn't lessened her hold over me at all. If anything it made it stronger. I wanted to ask her how the last two weeks had been. I actually wanted to know how she was.

With a sigh, I closed the folder in my lap and turned to look out the window.

We must have passed ocean and navy ships and people on the streets, but I didn't see a thing. The only thing on my mind was what was inside the car. I felt every movement, every breath. Her fingers tapped along the steering wheel. The leather squeaked when she shifted in her seat. Her scent filled the closed space and made it impossible to remember why I needed to resist. She completely surrounded me.

I needed to be strong and be my own person, to prove that I controlled my path in life, but every part of me ached to feel her. I needed to regroup at the hotel before this conference, but with her so close, all my best intentions got away from me.

"Are you okay, Miss Ashcroft?" The sound of her voice startled me and I turned to meet her green eyes, my stomach fluttering at the intensity behind them. How had I forgotten how long her lashes were?

"We're here." She motioned to the hotel, and I was surprised to see I hadn't even noticed. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah," I answered quickly. "Just been a long day."

"Hmm," she murmured, continuing to look at me. I saw her gaze flicker to my mouth, and God, I wanted her to kiss me. I missed the command of her mouth on mine, as if there were nothing in the world she wanted more than to taste me. And sometimes, I suspected that might actually be true.

As if drawn to her, I leaned forward in my seat. A hum of electricity buzzed between us, and her gaze flickered back to my eyes. She leaned in to meet me, and I could feel her hot breath against my mouth.

Suddenly my door opened and I jumped back into my seat, shocked to see the valet standing there expectantly, hand outstretched. I stepped out of the car, inhaling the air that wasn't permeated by her intoxicating scent. The valet took the bags, and Miss Raudenfeld excused herself to take a phone call while I checked us in.

The hotel was packed with fellow conference attendees, and I saw several familiar faces. I had made plans to meet up with a group of other students in my program sometime on the trip. I waved to a woman I recognized; it would be great to get out with some friends while we were here. The last thing I needed was to sit alone in my hotel room and fantasize about the woman down the hall.

After receiving our keys and seeing that the bellhop would take our bags to our rooms, I headed to the lounge in search of Miss Raudenfeld. The welcome reception was in full swing, and when I scanned the large room I found her standing next to a tall brunette. They stood close together, her head bent slightly as she listened to her.

Her head blocked her face from my view, and my eyes narrowed when I noticed her hand reach up and grip her forearm. She laughed at something she'd said and she pulled away slightly, allowing me a better look.

She was beautiful, with shoulder-length, straight dark hair. As I watched, she placed something in her hand and folded her fingers around it. A strange look crossed her face as she bent her head to examine the object in her palm.

 _You have got to be kidding me. Did she—did she just give her, her room key?_

I watched for a moment more, and then something inside me snapped ass he continued to stare at the key as if she was considering pocketing it. The thought of her looking at someone else with the same intensity, the thought of her wanting someone else at all, made my stomach twist with anger. Before I could stop myself, I was moving across the room until I stood beside them.

I placed my hand on her forearm, and she blinked over to me, a surprised, questioning expression on her face. "Amy, are you ready to head upstairs?" I asked quietly.

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened in shock. I'd never seen her look so utterly at a loss for words.

And then I realized: I'd never said her name in public before.

"Amy?" I asked once more, and something flickered across her face. Slowly, the corner of her mouth lifted into a smile and our eyes locked for a moment.

Turning back to her, she smiled indulgently and spoke in a voice so smooth it sent a tremor through me. "Excuse us," she said, discreetly placing her key back in her hand. "As you can see, I didn't come here alone."

The bright pulse of victory in my chest completely overshadowed the horror I should have been feeling. She pressed her warm hand to the small of my back as she led us out of the lounge and down the hall. But the closer we got to the elevators, the more my elation was replaced with something else. I began to panic as I realized how irrationally I had acted.

The reminder of our constant cat-and-mouse game exhausted me. How many times a year did she travel? And how often would she get a room key pressed into her palm? Would I be there every time to pull her back? If I wasn't, would she happily skip upstairs with someone else?

And, truly, who the fuck did I think I could be to her? I shouldn't care!

My heart was racing, the sound of my blood rushing in my ears. Three other couples joined us in the elevator, and I prayed I could make it to my room before I exploded. I couldn't believe what I'd just done. I glanced up to see her wearing a triumphant smirk.

I took a deep breath and tried to remind myself that this was exactly why I needed to stay away. What happened down there was completely out of character for me, and completely unprofessional of both of us in such a public work setting. I wanted to scream at her, to hurt her and enrage her like she had me, but it was getting harder and harder to find the will.

We rode up in tense silence, until the last couple stepped out, leaving us alone. I closed my eyes, just trying to breathe, but of course all I could smell was her. I didn't want her with someone else, and that feeling was so overwhelming that it took my breath away. And it was terrifying, because if I was to be honest, she could break my heart.

She could break me.

The elevator stopped and with a quiet ding, the doors opened at our floor.

"Karma?" she prompted, her hand pressed to my back.

I turned, rushing out of the elevator.

"Where are you going?" she shouted after me. I heard her footsteps and knew there was going to be trouble. "Karma, wait!"

I couldn't outrun her forever. I wasn't even sure I wanted to anymore.


	10. Chapter 10

Amy's POV

A million thoughts ran through my mind in that second. We couldn't keep doing this. Either this would continue or it had to stop. Now. It was interfering with my business, my sleep, my head—my fucking life.

But no matter how much I tried to kid myself, I knew what I wanted. I couldn't let her leave.

She practically sprinted down the hall but I chased after her. "You can't pull something like that and then expect me to just let you walk away!"

"The hell I can't!" she yelled over her shoulder. She reached her room and fumbled with her key before shoving it into the slot.

I reached the door just as she got it open; meeting her eyes briefly before she ran in and tried to force it closed. My hand shot out, pushing it open so violently that it crashed into the wall behind it.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she yelled. She stepped into the bathroom opposite the door and spun around to face me.

"Will you quit running from me?" I followed her, my voice echoing in the small space. "If this is about that woman downstairs—"

She looked impossibly more furious at my words and took a step toward me. "Don't you dare go there. I have never acted like a jealous girlfriend." She shook her head in disgust before turning to the counter and rummaging through her purse.

I stared at her she grew more and more frustrated. What else could this be about? I was completely bewildered. Her anger usually leaded to us fucking like animals. Here, she seemed genuinely upset. "You think I would be interested in any random woman who puts her room key in my hand? What the hell kind of woman do you think I am?"

She slammed a brush on the counter, looking up at me furiously. "Are you serious right now? I know you've done this before. Just sex, no strings attached—I'm sure you get room keys all the time."

I started to reply, because in all honesty I had been in relationships that were strictly about the sex, but this thing with Karma hadn't been just sex for a while now.

But she cut me off "I've never done anything like this before in my life and I don't know how to handled it anymore" she said, her voice getting louder with each word. "When I'm with you, I lost myself in you, it's like nothing matters to me. Whatever this thing is", she continued, gesturing between us, "Is not me! I'm not this person, I turn into someone else when I'm with you and I hate it. I can't keep doing this Amy. I don't like who I'm becoming. I work hard. I care about my job. I'm smart. None of that would matter if people knew what was happening between us. Go find someone else to fuck."

"I already told you, I haven't been with anyone since we started this."

"That doesn't mean you won't take a room key if it's put in your hand. What would you have done if I hadn't been there?"

Without hesitation, I said, "Handed it back."

But she just laughed, clearly disbelieving. "Look, I'm exhausted about this right now. I just want to take a long shower and go to bed"

It was nearly impossible to imagine walking away from her and leaving this unresolved, but she'd already moved away and was turning on the shower. Just as I reached the door to the hall, I glanced back to where she stood, already surrounded by steam, watching me leave. And fuck if she didn't look as conflicted as I felt.

Without thinking I crossed the room, gripped her face between my hands, and pulled her to me. When our lips met, she made a strangled sound of surrender, immediately digging her hands into my hair. I kissed her harder, claiming her sounds as my own, making her lips mine, her taste all mine.

"Just one night" I said, pressing three small kisses on her lips, one on each side and a lingering one in the middle, in the heart of her mouth. "Give me just one more night, no holding back and I'll leave you alone after that. Please, Karma… I haven't seen you in two weeks and I just…need you."

She stared at me for several painful beats, clearly struggling. And then, with a quiet, pleading sound, she reached up and pulled me to her, standing on her toes to get as close as she could.

My lips were rough and unyielding but she didn't move away, pressing her curves into me. I was lost to everything but her. We bumped into a wall, the counter, the shower door, shifting and pulling in our desperation. The room was completely filled with steam now, and nothing seemed real. I could smell, taste, and feel her, but none of it was enough.

Our kisses grew deeper, our touches wilder. I grabbed her ass, her thighs, slid my hands up and over her breasts, needing every part of her in my palms simultaneously. She pushed me back against the wall and a rush of warmth cascaded across my shoulder and down my chest, bringing me out of my haze. With our clothes still on, we had backed into the shower. We were getting soaked.

We didn't care.

Her hands roamed my body frantically, yanking my shirt from my pants. With shaky hands she unbuttoned it, tearing off some buttons in her haste before sliding the wet fabric from my shoulders and tossing it outside the shower door.

The wet silk of her dress clung to her, accentuating every curve. I traced the fabric along her breasts, feeling her tight nipples underneath. She moaned and brought her hand to rest on mine, guiding my movements.

"Tell me what you want." My voice was rough with need. "Tell me the things you want me to do to you."

"I don't know," she whispered into my mouth. "I just want to see you come apart."

I wanted to tell her that she was witnessing it now, and in all honesty she'd been watching it happen for weeks, but words fell away as I skimmed my hands down her sides and up under her dress. We teased and bit at each other's mouths, the sound of the shower drowning out our moans. I slipped my hands into her panties and felt her warmth against my fingers.

Needing to see more of her, I removed my fingers and slid them up to the hem of her dress. In one movement I pulled it up and over her head and stopped dead in my tracks at the sight of what lay underneath. Good lord. She was trying to kill me.

I took a step back, leaning against the shower wall for support. She stood before me, soaking wet in white lace panties that tied on the side with a satin bow. Her nipples were hard and visible beneath the matching bra, and I couldn't stop myself from reaching out to touch them.

"Fuck, you are so beautiful," I said, running my fingertips along her taut breasts. A visible shiver ran through her and my hand traveled upward, across her collarbone, along her neck, and finally to her jaw.

We could fuck right here, wet and slippery against the tile, and maybe we would later, but right now I wanted to take my time. My heart sped up at the thought that we had an entire night ahead of us. No rushing out or hiding. No bitter fighting and guilt. We had one whole night alone and I was going to spend the entire time with her . . . in a bed.

I reached behind her and turned off the shower. She pushed against me, pressing her body further into mine. I cradled her face in my hands and kissed her deeply, my tongue sliding easily against hers. Her hips rocked against me and I pushed the shower door open, holding on to her as we stepped out.

I couldn't seem to stop touching her skin: down her back, over the gentle curve of her backside, back up again along her sides to her breasts. I needed to feel, to taste every inch of her skin.

Our kiss never broke as we made our way out of the bathroom, stumbling clumsily while we desperately tore at our remaining clothes. I kicked off my wet shoes as I backed her into the bedroom, her hands raking along my stomach as she reached for my pants. Guiding her, I was quickly free of my pants and panties, I kicked them to the side, were they landed in a wet pile.

I traced along her ribs with my knuckles before sliding to the clasp of her bra, releasing it and practically ripping it off her body. She did the same to me. Pulling her closer, I groaned into her mouth as her hard nipples grazed against me. The tips of her wet hair tickled my hands as they roamed her naked back, felt electric against my skin.

The room was dark, the only illumination coming from the small sliver of light that crept out from the bathroom door and the moon in the night sky. The back of her knees hit the bed and my hands ran down to the last piece of clothing between us. My mouth moved from her lips, down her neck, and across her breasts and torso. I placed soft biting kisses across her stomach and finally to the white lace that hid the rest of her from view.

Sliding to my knees in front of her, I looked up and met her eyes. Her hands were in my hair, running her fingers through the messy, wet strands.

Reaching out, I took one delicate satin ribbon between my fingers and pulled, watching it slide off her hip. A look of confusion crossed her face as I continued running my fingers along the lace edge to the other side and did the same. The fabric fell from her body undamaged until she was completely naked before me. I might not have destroyed them, but she could be damn sure I planned to take them with me.

She laughed, seeming to read my mind.

I guided her back so that she sat on the edge of the bed and, still kneeling in front of her, I spread her legs. Running my hands down along the silky skin of her calves, I planted kisses along her thighs and between her legs. Her taste slid around my mouth and inside my head, erasing everything else. Fuck, what this woman did to me.

Pushing her back to lie across the sheets I finally moved up to join her, running my lips and tongue along her body, her hands still tangling in my hair, guiding where she wanted me most. I slipped my thumb into her mouth, needing her sucking on me somewhere, needing my own mouth on her breasts, her ribs, and her jaw.

Her sighs and moans filled the room and mingled with my own. I was wetter than I could ever remember being, and I wanted to bury my fingers in her over and over again. I reached her mouth and dragged my wet thumb across her cheek when she pulled me down to her, every inch of our naked bodies aligned.

We kissed frantically, hands seeking and grasping as we tried to get as close as possible. Our hips rocked together, my fingers sliding against her soaking heat. With one tiny move, I could be deep inside.

And I wanted that more than anything, but I needed to hear something from her first. When she'd said my name downstairs, it had set something off inside me. I didn't understand it yet, didn't know if it meant something I wasn't completely ready to explore, but I knew I needed her to say it, to hear it was me she wanted. I needed to know that for tonight, she was mine.

"I am fucking dying to be inside you right now," I whispered into her ear. Her breath caught and a deep moan escaped her lips. "Is that what you want?"

"God, Yes" she whimpered, her voice pleading. My fingers grazed her entrance, teasing her, making her crazy with need.

"Please, Amy" she begged. "I'm losing my mind". And that's all I need to hear to finally push my fingers deep inside her.

"Oh, fuck," she moaned.

"Say it again." I said hoarsely, as I began to move my fingers in and out of her.

"Amy- _fuck_ "

I wanted to hear it again and again. I began thrusting into her more steadily, my free hand entwined with hers.

"I can't get enough of you" I said huskily. "I want you like this every day"

I could feel her getting close, her cries becoming louder and my name leaving her lips over and over, pushing me closer to the edge.

"Faster…harder" she demanded _. "Now"_

"Your wishes are my command Miss Ashcroft" I whispered into her ear seductively and gave her what she desperately wanted. It didn't take long for her to climax hard on my fingers, and let me tell you, watching her come undone with my name on her lips was probably my new favorite thing in the world.

"Wow" she said almost breathless. She looked a little overwhelm and to be honest I was too.

Everything felt different, but completely undefined. Rolling off her, I closed my eyes, trying to block out the tangle of thoughts.

"I know" was the only thing I managed to say to her.

I pulled her to me and reached down, dragging the blankets over us. I didn't want to leave, but I wasn't sure if I was welcome to stay either.

The silence stretched between us as did the minutes, and I wondered if she'd fallen asleep. I shifted slightly and was surprised to hear her voice. "Don't go," she said into the darkness. I bent, kissed the top of her head, and inhaled her sweet, familiar scent.

"I'm not going anywhere."

 _God, that feels so good_

Something warm and wet was playing with my folds and I moaned loudly. _Best. Fucking. Dream. Ever._ Dream Karma moaned, sending a vibration along my cunt and straight to me.

"Karma" I heard my own voice and jerked slightly. I'd dreamed of her hundreds of times but this seemed so real. The warmth disappeared and I frowned. _Don't wake up Amy. Don't fucking wake up from this._

"Say it again." A soft, throaty voice broke into my consciousness and I forced myself to open my eyes. The room was dark and I was lying in a strange bed. The warmth was back and my eyes flew to my lap, where a beautiful red head of hair moved between my open legs.

"Karma?" There was no way I could be lucky enough for this to be real.

She must have gotten up sometime in the night to shut off the bathroom light; the room was so dark I could barely make her out. The feeling was so intense, the realization of my dreams and reality coming together, that I didn't know how long I could last. She was fucking eating me like her life depended on it.

While my eyes adjusted to the light, I ran my fingers through her hair and across her face and jaw. She closed her eyes and increased her pace, bringing me closer and closer to the edge, until I finally came hard on her mouth. I could feel her drinking me, until the last drop of my juices.

Sitting up, I pulled her into my lap, wrapping her legs around my hips. Our naked chests pressed together, I took her face in my hands, looking into her eyes.

"Best wakeup call ever" I said and kissed her hard on the lips. She tasted like me and that turned me on a lot. "Now is my turn"

We spend most of the night exploring each other bodies and minds. We made love until we were both exhausted. I pulled her to me; her back pressed against my chest, and wrapped my arms around her, entangling my legs with hers. She mumbled something I couldn't make out but was asleep before I could ask her.

Something had shifted tonight, and my last thought as my eyes closed was that there would be plenty of time to talk tomorrow. But as the early morning sunlight began to creep under the dark curtain, I realized with an uneasy feeling that tomorrow was already here.


	11. Chapter 11

Karma's POV

Consciousness fluttered on the edge of my sleep-filled mind, and I tried to force it away. I didn't want to wake up. I was warm and comfortable and content.

Vague visions of my dream passed behind my closed eyes as I snuggled into the warmest, best-smelling blanket I'd ever slept in. It snuggled back.

Something warm pressed against me, and my eyes fluttered open to see a head of familiar messy blonde hair inches from my face. A hundred images flashed through my mind in that second as the reality of last night came crashing down on my muddled brain.

 _Holy shit._

It was real.

My heart rate quickened as I lifted my head slightly to see the beautiful woman wrapped around me. Her head lay on my chest, her perfect mouth parted slightly, releasing puffs of warm air across my bare breasts. Her long body lay flush against mine, our legs tangled together and her arms wrapped tightly around my torso.

She stayed.

The intimacy of our position hit with a crushing force that actually took my breath away. She didn't just stay, she clung to me.

I struggled to find my breath and not panic. I was keenly aware of each inch of where our skin touched. I felt the powerful thump of her heartbeat against my chest. My lips ached to press against her hair. It was too much. She was too much.

Something changed last night and I wasn't sure I was ready to deal with it. I didn't know what that change entailed, but it was there. In every move, every touch, every word, and every kiss, we had been together. Nobody had ever made me feel that way, as if my body were made to fit hers.

I'd been with other women and men, but with her I felt as if I was being carried away by a hidden undertow, completely unable to change the course. I closed my eyes, trying to quell the sense of panic that was building. I didn't regret what happened. It was—as always—intense and easily the best sex I'd ever had. I just needed a few minutes alone before I could face her.

Placing one hand into her hair and the other on her back, I managed to roll her off me. She began to stir and I froze, holding her close and silently willing her to go back to sleep. She mumbled my name before her breathing evened out again, and I slipped out from underneath her.

I watched her sleep for a moment, the panic receding somewhat, and was once again struck by just how gorgeous she was. Stilled by sleep, her features were tranquil and peaceful, and so very different from any expression she ever wore around me. Long lashes, perfect cheekbones, full pouty lips, and that jaw.

 _Christ on a cracker, she's pretty._

I started to make my way to the bathroom but caught my reflection in the mirror over the bedroom vanity.

Wow. Freshly fucked. That was definitely how I looked.

Leaning in, I examined the small red scrapes that were scattered along my neck, shoulders, breasts, and stomach. A small bite mark was visible on the underside of my left breast, a hickey on my shoulder. Glancing down, I ran my fingers along the red marks on my inner thigh. My nipples hardened as I recalled the feeling of her face brushing along my skin.

My hair was a wild and tangled mess, and I bit my lip as I remembered her hands twisted in it. The way she pulled me first into her kiss…

 _Not helping , Karma_

I was jolted out of my thoughts by a voice thick with sleep. "Awake and freaking out already?"

Turning, I caught a glimpse of her naked body as she twisted in the sheets and sat up before pulling them over her hips and leaving her torso bare. I didn't think I would ever get tired of looking at her. Everything about her was utterly perfect. I couldn't believe how lucky I was.

"You're staring" she murmured, a lopsided grin on her face.

I wasn't sure whether to smile or roll my eyes. Seeing her rumpled and vulnerable in her half-awake state was disorienting. We never bothered to close the heaviest drapes last night, and now sunlight streamed in, blindingly bright against the tangle of white linens. She looked so different, still my bitchy boss, but also someone else now: a woman in my bed, looking like she was ready for round. . . five? Six? I couldn't keep track.

And as her eyes raked over every inch of me, I remembered that I too was completely naked. In this moment, her expression was as intense as her touch. I briefly wondered, if she continued to look at me like that, would my skin ignite? Would I feel her touch on my flesh the same as when she put her hands on me?

I fixed my expression into something I hoped camouflaged that I was mentally cataloging every inch of her skin and bent over to retrieve her white shirt off the floor. It had been in front of the air conditioner all night and was a little cold but, thankfully, mostly dry. When I slipped the soft cotton over my head, I inhaled the scent of her skin and then emerged, catching her dark green stare.

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. "Come here," she growled quietly.

I moved to the bed, intending to sit beside her, but she pulled me so I straddled her thighs, and said, "Tell me what you're thinking."

She wanted me to condense a million thoughts into a single sentence? The woman was insane.

So I opened my mouth and let the first thought out: "You said you haven't been with anyone since we were first . . . together." I stared at her collarbone so I wouldn't have to look her in the eye. "Is that true?"

Finally, I looked up.

She nodded and slipped her fingers beneath the shirt, running her hands slowly from my hips to my waist.

"Why?" I asked.

She closed her eyes, shook her head once. "I haven't wanted anyone else."

I wasn't sure how to interpret that. Did she mean she hadn't met anyone she wanted but was open to it? "Are you usually monogamous if you're sleeping with someone?

She shrugged. "If that's the expectation."

She kissed along my shoulder, to my collarbone and up my neck. I reached around her, grabbing the complimentary bottle of water on the nightstand and taking a sip before handing it to her. She finished it in a few long swallows.

"Thirsty?"

"I was. Feeling a little hungry now."

"Not surprising, we haven't eaten in like—" I stopped as she wiggled her eyebrows and grinned.

I rolled my eyes, but they fell closed as she leaned forward and kissed me once, sweetly, on the lips.

"Is monogamy the expectation here?" I asked.

"After what happened last night, I think you need to tell me."

I didn't know how to answer that. I wasn't even sure I could be with her like this, let alone be monogamous about it. The idea of how that would work made my head spin. Would we actually be . . . friendly? Would she say, "Good morning," and mean it? Would she feel safe criticizing my work?

She spread her fingers over my lower back, pressing me into her side and pulling me out of my rambling thoughts. "Never take this off," she whispered.

"Deal." I leaned back to give her mouth better access to my throat. "I'll wear this and nothing else down to the poster session this morning."

Her laugh was soft and playful. "Like hell you will."

"What time is it?" I asked, trying to see behind her to the clock.

"Don't give a shit." Her fingertips found my breast, and slipped back and forth over the soft underside.

But in the process of leaning away from her, I'd exposed the skin just above her hip. What the hell?

Was that a tattoo?

"What is—?" I could barely form the words. Pushing her away slightly, I looked up to meet her eyes before returning them to the mark. Right below her hipbone was a string of black ink, words written in what I guessed was French. How the hell had I missed that? I thought back briefly to all the times we'd been together. We'd always been rushed, or in the dark, or in only a state of semi undress.

"It's a tattoo," she said, bemused, pulling back a bit and trailing her fingers over my navel.

"I know it's a tattoo, but . . . what does it say?" Miss Serious Business had a fucking tattoo. Another piece of the woman I thought I knew fell away.

"It says, 'Je ne regrette rien.'"

My eyes flew to her, my blood heating at the sound of her voice dissolving into a perfect French accent. "What did you say?"

She definitely smirked. "Je ne regrette rien." She spoke each word slowly, emphasizing every syllable. It had to be the sexiest fucking thing I'd ever heard. Between that and the tattoo and the fact that she was completely naked under me, I was going to spontaneously combust.

"Isn't that a song?"

She nodded. "It's a song, yes." Laughing quietly she said, "You might think I'd regret that one drunken night in Paris, thousands of miles from home, without a single friend in the city, I decide to go get a tattoo. But no, I don't even regret that."

"Say it again," I whispered.

She moved closer, hips rolling against mine, her breath hot in my ear, and whispered it again. "Je ne regrette rien. Do you understand?"

I nodded. "Say something else." My breasts were heaving with each labored breath, my sensitive nipples grazing against the cotton of her shirt

Bending slightly, she kissed my ear, saying, "Je suis à toi." _God, this woman was going to be the death of me._ I wanted to fuck her so badly right now and was I sure she wanted that too, so I decided to put us both out of our misery by pushing my fingers deep inside of her. She moaned loudly in agreement and whispered a single, profane syllable over and over, staring up at me.

It was so easy, so natural between us, that it somehow just added to the space of uneasiness that I couldn't seem to shake. Instead of focusing on that, I focused on her quiet moans into my mouth, in the way she sucked on my breasts through her shirt, exposing the pink beneath, in how urgent were her fingers on my hips and thighs as she got closer to the edge, on her hips moving faster and harder to meet every one of the movements of my fingers.

" Oh, fuck Karma…I'm so close…"she said hoarsely. Hearing her like this only intensified my need for her to come, so I began to thrust faster and even harder. I was very close to come myself, teetering right on the edge. I used my free hand to found my clit and I began to rub it slowly.

"Oh, fuck." Her voice was desperate, her breath coming out in deep pants. "Touch yourself, just like that. Let me fucking see you." Her words were all I needed, and with one last brush of my fingers, I felt my orgasm overtake me and I felt hers come as well.

She kissed my shoulder and my neck before placing a single kiss to my lips. "Christ, Karma," she said, exhaling a heavy breath, forcing a laugh. "You're going to kill me."

We rolled to our sides in unison, heads on our pillows, and when our eyes met, I couldn't look away. I lost every hope I ever had that the next time would be less powerful, or that our connection would somehow melt away if we just got it out of our systems. I already wanted to move closer, kiss her jaw, and pull her back over me. As I gazed at her, it became clear to me that when this ended, it would fucking hurt.

Fear gripped my heart and the panic from last night returned, bringing an uncomfortable silence with it. I sat up, pulling the sheets with me and up to my chin. "Oh, shit."

Her hand shot out, wrapping around my arm. "Karma, I can't—"

"We probably need to get ready," I interrupted before she finished that sentence. It could be the beginning of a million forms of heartbreak. "We have a poster session in twenty minutes."

She looked confused for a moment before speaking. "I don't have any dry clothes in here. I don't even know where my room is."

I fought a blush as I remembered how quickly everything had happened last night. "Right. I'll use your key to go get you something."

I showered quickly and wrapped a thick towel around myself, wishing that I would've had the sense to bring one of the hotel bathrobes in here with me. With a deep breath I opened the door and stepped out.

She was sitting on the bed, and her eyes rose to meet mine as I entered the room.

I just need . . ." I trailed off, motioning to my bag. She nodded but made no move to speak. I was usually never self-conscious about my body. But standing here in nothing but a towel, knowing that she was watching me, I felt uncharacteristically shy.

I grabbed a few things and rushed by her, not stopping until I was once again safely behind the bathroom door. I dressed faster than I thought possible, deciding I would pull my hair back and finish the rest later. Grabbing the key cards from the counter, I returned to the bedroom.

She hadn't moved. Sitting on the edge of the bed with her elbows resting on her thighs, she appeared lost in thought. What was she thinking? All morning I'd been a nervous wreck, my emotions shifting wildly from one extreme to the other, but she seemed so calm. So sure. But what was she sure of? What had she decided?

"Do you have anything in particular you want me to bring you?"

When she lifted her head, she looked slightly surprised, as if the thought hadn't occurred to her. "Um . . . I just have a few meetings this afternoon, right?" I nodded. "Whatever you pick will be fine."

It only took me a second to locate her room; it was right next door. Great. Now I could imagine her in a bed just through the wall from mine. Her bags were already there, and I paused briefly, realizing I would have to go through her luggage.

Lifting the largest one and placing it on the bed, I opened it. Her scent hit me and caused a heavy pang of desire to wash through me. I began looking through the neatly packed items.

Everything about her was so tidy and organized, and it made me wonder what her home looked like. I'd never thought about it much, but I suddenly wondered if I would ever see it, if I would ever see her bed.

I paused as I realized that I wanted to. Would she want me to?

Putting everything back where it belonged, I gathered up the clothing I chose for her and headed for my room. I was unable to stifle my nervous laughter as I walked into the hall, shaking my head over the sheer absurdity of the situation. Thankfully, I managed to compose myself as I reached my door. I made it two steps inside before I froze.

She stood in front of the open window, awash in morning sunlight. Each beautiful line of her toned form was accentuated in perfect detail by the shadows cast across her body. A towel hung indecently low on her hips, and there, poking out just above it, was the tattoo.

"See something you like?"

I reluctantly returned my attention to her face. "I—"

My eyes drifted back down to her hip as if pulled by a magnet.

"I said, did you see something you like?" She crossed the room, stopping just in front of me.

"I heard you," I said, glaring. "And no, just lost in thought."

"And what exactly where you thinking?" She reached out, moving a piece of my damp hair behind my ear. Just that simple touch caused my stomach to jump.

"That we have a schedule to keep."

She moved a step closer. "Why don't I believe you?"

"Because you're self-absorbed?" I suggested, meeting her gaze.

She quirked an eyebrow and watched me for a moment before taking her clothing from my hands and placing it on the bed. Before I could move, she pulled the towel from her hips and tossed it to the side. _Sweet mother of God._ If there was a finer specimen of woman on this earth, I'd pay big money to see it.

Picking up her panties, she began to step into them before she stopped, looking at me. "Didn't you just say we had a schedule to keep?" she questioned, eyeing me humorously. "Unless, of course, you see something you like."

 _Son of a—_

I narrowed my eyes and turned quickly, returning to the bathroom to finish getting ready. As I dried my hair, I couldn't get past the unsettling feeling that she was trying to say something more important than "Look at my naked body some more."

Before I could even untangle my own emotions I was trying to guess at hers. Was I worried she would want to leave or stay?

When I returned to the bedroom, she was already dressed and waiting, looking out the large window. She turned, walked to me, and placed her warm hands on my face, staring at me intently. "I need you to listen to me."

I swallowed. "Okay."

"I don't want to walk out that door and lose what we found in this room."

Her simple words rocked me. She wasn't declaring, she wasn't promising, but she said exactly what I'd needed to hear. We might not know what was happening, but we wouldn't leave it unfinished.

Letting out a shaky breath I brought my hands to her chest. "I don't either, but I also don't want your career to swallow mine."

"I don't want that either."

I nodded, feeling like words tangled my thoughts and I was unable to think of anything articulate to add.

"Okay then," she said, looking me up and down. "Let's go."


	12. Chapter 12

Amy's POV

The theme of the conference this year was The Next Generation of Marketing Strategy, and as a way to embrace the new generation, the organizers had scheduled a poster session for students getting their degrees. Most students from Karma's program were here, standing straight and eager beside their poster boards. In fact, presentation at this venue was considered a requirement for Karma's scholarship, but I had applied for an exception for her given the size and confidential nature of the Booker account, her primary project. No other student here was managing a million-dollar deal.

The scholarship board had been happy to grant the exception, practically drooling over the prospect of putting Karma's success story in their program brochure once the design was completed, signed, and released publicly.

But although she had no presentation at the meeting, she insisted on walking through every aisle and looking at every poster. Given that I was apparently incapable of being more than four fucking feet away from her and didn't have a meeting until ten, I followed her around the entire time like a lost puppy, counting posters (576) and staring at her ass (perky and currently wrapped in black wool).

She'd mentioned in the elevator that his best friend, Shane, provided a majority of the wardrobe I loved/hated. This morning's selection of a fitted pencil skirt and deep blue blouse was now also on my list. I tried a couple of times to convince Karma that we needed to go back to the room to get something, but she'd only raised an eyebrow and asked, "Get something? Or get some?"

I'd ignored her, but now I wished I'd admitted I needed one more round before conferencing. I wondered if she'd have gone for it.

Would you have gone back to the room?" I asked into her ear as she carefully read an undergraduate poster on a rebranding idea for some small cellular company. Graphs were taped to the poster board, for crying out loud.

"Shhh."

"Karma, believe me you're not going to learn anything from this poster. Let's go get a cup of coffee and maybe some _alone time_ in the bathroom."

Your father told me it was impossible to predict where I'd get my best ideas, and to read everything I could find. Besides, these are my student colleagues."

I waited, toying with a cuff link, but she apparently wasn't going to address the latter part of what I'd said. "My dad doesn't know what he's talking about."

She laughed, appropriately. Dad had been on every top-twenty-five list of CEOs practically since before I was born.

" _Alone time_ means fucking you against a wall" I whispered, clearing my throat and looking around to be sure no one was near enough to hear. "Or I could lay you down on the floor, spread you wide, and make you come against my tongue."

She shivered, smiled at the student near the next poster, and walked closer to read it. The man held his hand out to me. "Excuse me, but are you Amy Raudenfeld?"

I nodded, distracted as I shook his hand, watching Karma move farther away.

The aisle we were in was practically deserted but for the students standing near the posters. Even they had begun to wander off to more interesting areas of the room, where larger companies—conference sponsors, mostly—had put together shiny, trademark-filled posters in the interest of getting the inaugural student-led session off the ground successfully. Karma bent and wrote something on her notepad: Rebranding for Jenkins Financial?

I stared at her hand and then up at her face, fixed in a thoughtful expression. The Jenkins Financial account wasn't one of hers. It wasn't even one I handled. It was a small account, occasionally half-ass managed by one of the junior executives. Did she actually know how much it was struggling with the dinosaur marketing campaign we had?

Before I could ask, she turned and moved on to the next poster, and I was mesmerized with Karma at work. I'd never let myself watch her so openly—the surreptitious stalking I had done only told me she was brilliant and driven, but I never realized the breadth of her company knowledge before.

I wanted to compliment her somehow, but the words got tangled in my head, and a strange defensiveness surged in my chest, as if to praise her work would somehow break strategy. "Your penmanship has improved."

She smiled up at me, clicking the end of her pen. "Fuck off."

"You're wasting my time here Miss Ashcroft"

"Then why don't you go glad-hand some executives over in the reception hall? They have breakfast there. Those little chocolate muffins you pretend not to like?"

"Because it's not what I feel like eating."

A small grin pulled at her lips. She watched my face as another student introduced herself to me.

"I've followed your career ever since I can remember," the woman said, breathless. "I heard you speak here last year."

I smiled, shook her hand as briefly as I could without appearing rude. "Thanks for saying hello."

We moved to the end of the aisle and I wrapped my hand around Karma's elbow. "I have one more hour until I have a meeting. Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

Finally, she looked up. Her pupils were so large her eyes turned nearly black, and she licked her lips into a wet, decadent pout. "I suppose I need you to take me upstairs so you can show me."

Karma was still looking for a new pair of panties when I was already five minutes late to my one o'clock. It was with Ed Gugliotti, a marketing executive for a smaller Minneapolis firm. We used Ed's firm to subcontract smaller jobs, and had a more significant project we were thinking of passing off to him to see how they handled it. As I zipped my pants, I reminded myself that Ed was himself pathologically late.

Except this time he wasn't. He was already waiting for me in one of the hotel meeting rooms, two of his junior people sitting beside him, eager smiles in place.

I hated being late.

"Ed," I said, greeting him with a handshake. He introduced me to his team, Daniel and Sam. They shook my hand in turn, but by the time I got to Sam, his attention was behind me, at the door.

Karma had walked in, hair down now, looking wildly beautiful but professional, and miraculously hiding the fact that she'd just had a screaming orgasm atop the desk in her hotel room.

Gugliotti and his men watched in rapt silence as she walked over, pulled out a chair, and sat down beside me, turning to give me a small smile. Her lips were red and swollen, and a faint red mark bloomed on her jaw.

 _Too right._

I cleared my throat until everyone finally looked back at me. "Let's get started."

It was a simple meeting, and the kind of thing I'd done a thousand times. I described the account in the most general, nonconfidential terms, and of course Gugliotti told me he thought his team could come up with something great. After meeting the men he'd assign to it, I agreed. We planned to meet again the following day, when I would present the account in its entirety and officially hand it over. The meeting was over in less than fifteen minutes, giving me time before my two o'clock. I looked over at Karma and raised an eyebrow in silent question.

"Food," she said with a laugh. "Let's get some food."

The rest of the afternoon had been productive, but I'd been entirely on autopilot, and if someone had asked me specifics about the meetings, it would've taken me a good long time to remember any details. Thank God for Karma and her obsessive note taking. I'd been approached by many colleagues, had likely clasped a hundred hands over the afternoon, but the only touch I remembered was hers.

She distracted me endlessly, and what bothered me was that it was different here than usual. It was work, but it was a completely new world, one where we could pretend our circumstances were whatever we wanted them to be. The itch to be near her was even greater than it was when I had to keep my distance. Looking back to the evening keynote speaker at the podium, I tried unsuccessfully once again to redirect my thoughts to something productive. I was sitting up front, I had given the keynote last year at this very conference, and yet I somehow couldn't find a way to engage.

I saw her shift in my peripheral vision and instinctively I looked across the table at her. When our eyes met, every other sound blended together, floating around me but never breaking into my consciousness. Without thinking, I leaned toward her, she leaned toward me, and a tiny grin flickered across her mouth.

I thought about this morning, and how transparent she'd been in her panic. By contrast, I'd felt strangely calm, as if everything we'd done had been leading to that precise moment when we could both see how easy it was to _just be_.

A cell phone ringing somewhere behind me broke me from my trance, causing me to look away. Quickly sitting back in my chair, I was shocked to see how far forward I'd actually been leaning. I looked around and stopped dead as a pair of unfamiliar eyes met mine.

This stranger had no idea who we were, or that Karma worked for me; he'd only glanced at us and quickly looked away. But in that moment, every bit of guilt I'd been suppressing hit me. Everyone knew who I was, no one here knew her, and if it ever got out that we were fucking, the judgment of an entire community would follow her around for the rest of her career.

A quick glance back at Karma told me she could see panic written all over my face. I spent the rest of the lecture staring forward, not giving her another glance.

"Are you okay?" she asked in the elevator, breaking the heavy silence that had accompanied us for fourteen floors.

"Yeah, just . . ." I scratched the back of my neck and avoided her eyes. "Just thinking."

"I'm going out with some friends tonight."

"That sounds like a good idea."

"You have dinner with Stevenson and Newberry at seven. I think they're meeting you at that sushi place you like in the Gaslamp."

"I know," I said, relaxing as we fell into the familiar details of work. "What's their assistant's name again? She always comes."

"Andrew."

I looked over at her, confused. "That's a touch manlier than I was expecting."

"They have a new assistant."

How on earth did she know that?

She smiled. "He was sitting next to me at the keynote and asked if I'd be at the dinner tonight."

I wondered if his was the pair of unfamiliar eyes that caught me staring at Karma, and he asked because of the way I looked at her. I stuttered out a few sounds before she interrupted me. "I told him I had other plans."

My unease returned. I wanted her with me tonight, and soon she wouldn't be my intern anymore. Could I be her lover then? Could I still be her boss now? "Did you want to come?"

She shook her head, looking up at the doors as we reached the thirtieth floor. "I think I should probably go do my own thing."

The short drive back from the restaurant was quiet and lonely, with only my jumbled thoughts to keep me company. I made my way through the large lobby to the elevator, and robotically moved to Karma's room before remembering I wasn't actually staying with her. I couldn't remember which room was mine and tried three on the floor before giving up and checking back in at the reception desk. When I returned, I realized my room was just next to hers.

It was a mirror image of her room, but completely different in all of the ways that couldn't be seen. This shower hadn't washed away our pretenses last night; we hadn't slept together, curled around each other in this bed. These walls hadn't been filled with the sounds of her coming apart beneath me. This desk wasn't broken from a late-morning quickie.

I checked my phone and saw that I had two missed calls from my sister. Great. Normally, I would have already spoken to my father and sister several times, telling them about meetings or potential clients I'd met. So far, I hadn't talked to either of them once. I'd been afraid they would see right through me and know that my head was not in the game this week.

It was after eleven and I wondered if she was still with her friends, or was she back already? Maybe she was lying there awake, obsessing about all of the same things I was. Without thinking, I reached for the phone and dialed her room. It rang four times before a generic voice mail answered. I hung up and tried her cell.

She answered on the first ring. "Miss Raudenfeld?"

I winced. She was with other students. Of course she wouldn't call me Amy now. "Hi. I . . . um, was just making sure you had a way to get back to the hotel."

Her laugh came through the line, muted by the sound of voices and the pulsing of loud music all around her. "There are about seventy cabs waiting outside. I'll just grab one of those when we're done."

"When will that be?"

"When Melissa finishes this drink and probably another. And when Kim decides she's done dancing with every filthy manwhore here. So you can expect me back sometime between now and tomorrow morning at eight."

"Are you being a smartass?" I asked, feeling a grin spread across my face.

"Yes."

"Fine," I said, exhaling heavily. "Just text me when you get back safe."

She was quiet for a beat and then said, "I will."

I hung up and dropped my phone on the bed beside me, staring at the floor for probably an hour. I didn't even know what to do with myself.

Finally, I got up and walked back downstairs.

I was still in the lobby when she came back at two in the morning, cheeks bright and smile firmly in place as she dropped her phone into her purse. My phone buzzed in my hand and I glanced down.

I'm back safe.

I watched her walk past the reception desk and directly toward where I sat near the bank of elevators. She stopped when she saw me, bleary-eyed, in my rumpled suit. I was sure my hair was a fucking joke because I'd been worried sick. I suddenly had no idea what I was doing waiting for her like an anxious wife. I only knew I couldn't be the one to decide we wouldn't work, because deep down, I wanted to figure it out.

"Amy?" she said, glancing at her friend, who waved and walked to the elevator. I didn't give a damn what the friend was thinking, but I could feel her stare on us until she got into the elevator.

Karma was wearing a tiny black dress and heels I wanted to petition become a uniform until her internship ended. Thin straps crisscrossed all the way from her pink-painted toes midway up her shins. I wanted to peel the dress from her body and fuck her into the couch.

"Hey," I mumbled, mesmerized by the miles and miles of bare leg in front of me.

She walked closer, stopping just a few inches away. "What are you doing down here?"

"Waiting."

I struggled to hide how she affected me, how my present thoughts could barely be torn from the fantasy of my hands in her hair, the way my thumbs could completely cover her small, pink nipples, or how her clit was the softest part of any body I'd ever touched. I wanted to taste her from her toes to her earlobes, telling her every thought I had on the way.

"Are you drunk?"

I shook my head. Not the way you mean. "Someone saw me looking at you earlier."

"I know." She reached up, ran her fingers through my hair. "At the keynote. I saw your face.

"I panicked."

Karma didn't say anything in response to that; she just laughed, a soft husky sound.

"I'm not worried about how it looks for me. I'm worried about how it looks for you," I said.

I heard her sharp inhale, felt her fingers tighten in my hair. When I looked up at her face, she looked bewildered.

How could she not know how infatuated I'd become? I was sure she could see it every time I looked at her. As always, I wanted to kiss her senseless, taste every inch or her skin. Pull her hair when I came. Bite her breast again. Drag my teeth over her spine. Pinch the back of her thigh and then smooth it over with the softest touch.

But I also wanted to watch her sleep, and then watch her wake up and see me, and gauge her feelings from that first, unfiltered reaction.

It wasn't just sex anymore, it hadn't been for a long time and it wasn't just working something out of my system. Sex was just the fastest route to the deeper possession I needed. I was falling in love with her, too fast and too hard to easily find any footing.

It was scary as fuck.

I decided to give her the truth.

"Look, I know that I asked you just one night but…. I really want you"

She sucked in a breath and stared, and only then did it occur to me that she could be feeling something very different than I was.

"You can say no… I just… God I really making a fool of myself right now" I ran a hand through my hair and looked up at her. "I just would really like to be with you again tonight."

"Someone is greedy" she said smirking at me.

"Oh, you have no idea"


	13. Chapter 13

Karma's POV

We slowly returned from orbit, and with limbs tangled in the sheets, talked for hours about our day, about the meeting with Gugliotti, about her dinner and my night out with friends. We talked about the broken desk, and that I only packed enough underwear for a week, so she couldn't ruin any more.

We talked about everything except the havoc she was wreaking on my heart.

I ran a finger down her chest and she stilled it with her hand, bringing it to her lips and saying, "It's nice to talk to you."

I laughed, pushing her hair off her forehead. "You talk to me every day. And when I say talk, I mean yell. Shout. Slam doors. Pout—"

With her fingertips, she drew spirals over my bare stomach, distracting me. "You know what I mean."

I did. I knew exactly what she meant, and I wanted to find a way to stretch this moment, right there, into eternity. "So tell me something."

She raised her eyes to my face, smiling a little nervously. "What do you want to know?"

"Honestly? I think I want to know everything. But let's start small. Your magic number Raudenfeld. How many women?"

"You don't waste your time, don't you?" She cleared her throat and then looked at me "A few in high school, some in college, some in grad school. Some after grad school. And then, one long-term relationship when I lived in France."

Details?" I twisted a strand of her hair around my finger, hoping I wasn't pushing her too much.

But to my surprise, she answered without hesitation. "Her name was Sabrina. She was an attorney at a small firm in Paris. We were together for three years and broke up a few months before I moved home."

"Was that why you moved home?"

A smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. "No."

"Did she break your heart?"

The smile turned into a full-on smirk directed at me. "No, Karma."

"Did you break hers?" Why was I even asking this? Did I want her to say—yes? I knew she was capable of breaking hearts. I was actually fairly certain she would break mine.

She bent to kiss me then, sucking on my lower lip for a few moments before whispering, "No. We just didn't work anymore. My romantic life was entirely without drama. Until you."

I laughed. "Happy to change up the pattern."

I could feel her laugh in the vibrations along my skin as she kissed up my neck. "And oh, you do." Long fingers made their way down my stomach, to my hips, and finally, between my legs. "Your turn."

"To have an orgasm? Yes, please."

"No" she murmured "Your turn to spill the beans"

"No way can I think about anything when you're doing that."

With a kiss to my shoulder, she moved her hand back to my stomach, drawing circles there once again.

I pouted but she missed it, watching her fingers on me instead. "God, there have been so many people, where will I ever begin?"

"Karma" she warned.

"A couple in high school, one in college."

"You've only had sex with three people?"

I pulled back to look at her "Four with you, Einstein"

A cocky grin spread across her face. "Right. And am I the best by an embarrassingly wide margin?"

"Am I?"

Her grin disappeared, and she blinked, surprised. "Yes."

It was sincere. It made something inside me melt into a tiny, warm hum. I reached to kiss her lips, trying to hide what that information did to me. "Good."

Kissing along her shoulder, I moaned happily. I loved her taste, loved to inhale that clean, coconut smell of her. Digging my fingers into her hair, I tugged her down so I could nibble at her jaw, her neck, and her shoulders. She held himself very still, propped over me, very clearly not kissing me back.

The hell?

She inhaled to speak and then closed her mouth again. Somehow I managed to drag my mouth away long enough to ask, "What?"

"I know you think I'm some sort of a womanizer, but it does actually matter to me"

"What matters to—?"

"I want to hear you to say it."

I stared at her, and she stared back, irises growing a familiar shade of angry dark-green. Mentally rifling through the last few minutes, I tried to understand what she was talking about.

Oh. "Oh. Yes."

Her brows pulled together. "Yes, what, Miss Ashcroft?"

Heat pulsed through me. Her voice was different when she said that. Sharp. Commanding. Hot as hell. "Yes, you're the best by a very embarrassing margin."

"That's better."

"At least so far."

She rolled on top of me, grabbing my wrists and pinning them above my head. "Don't tease."

"You got to be kidding me, teasing is all we do" I said breathless, her closeness was firing me up.

As if to prove me wrong, she reached down, and guided her fingers into me making me moan in response. But she didn't move them one bit, holding very still she stared down at me intently.

"Fucking move" I whispered eagerly

"You would like that, don't you?"

"Yes."

"And if I don't?"

I bit my lip, tried to glare at her.

She smiled, growling, "This is teasing."

"Please?" I tried to move my hips but she followed my movements so I couldn't gain any friction.

"Karma, I never tease you. I fuck the sense out of you." she said, biting my neck. "Now tell me how good I make you feel." Something in her voice, some vulnerability or dip in its strength as the sentence ended told me she wasn't playing around.

"No one has ever made me come before. Not with hands or mouth or anything else."

"No one?" she asked hoarsely. She seemed surprisingly satisfied with my revelation.

"Only you." I stretched to nibble her jaw. "I'd say that puts you a bit ahead of the field."

She exhaled my name as her fingers moved back and then forward. And again back and forward. The conversation was done; her mouth found mine, and then my chin, and my jaw, and my ears. Her free hand moved up my side, to my breast, and finally to my face.

And when I thought we were both lost to the rhythm and I could feel my climax just beyond me, but so close, she whispered "I wish I'd known that."

"Why?" I managed, an exhale carrying the sound barely past my lips. Faster, my body screamed. More. "Would it have changed how big of a bitch you were with me?"

"I don't know. I just wish I'd known," she grunted, pushing into me once again.

"Almost." I clutched at the sheets, begged her to keep going. "Almost. Harder."

"Fuck Karma, you're so close" she said huskily. "Come for me, baby"

Her face, her voice, her scent—each part of her filled my mind as I obediently came apart beneath her.

The air conditioner turned on with a rattle and then a steady drone. Amy rolled off me, dragging her hand across my sweaty back. "Karma?"

"Mmm?"

"I want more than just this." Her voice was so soft and sleepy, I wasn't actually sure she was awake.

I froze, my thoughts exploding in a chaotic mess. "What did you just say?"

She opened her eyes, with apparent effort, and looked at me. "I want to be with you."

Lifting myself on an elbow, I stared down at her, completely unable to pull a single word out of my brain.

"So sleepy." Her eyes rolled closed and she threw an arm around me, pulling me down onto her. "Baby, come here." She pressed her face into my neck and mumbled, "It's okay if you don't want it too. I'll take anything you'll give me. Just let me stay here until the morning, okay?"

I was suddenly wide awake, staring at the dark wall and listening to the hum of the air conditioner. I was terrified that this changed everything, and even more terrified that she had no idea what she was saying, and it would change nothing.

"Okay," I whispered into the dark, hearing her breathing slow into a steady, sleeping rhythm.

I rolled over and pulled a pillow against my body, seeking comfort. Her scent pulled me out of sleep, but the cool sheets on the other side of the bed told me I was alone. I looked toward the bathroom door, trying to focus on any noise I could hear coming from inside. There wasn't any.

I continued to lie there, clutching her pillow as my eyes began to grow heavier. I wanted to wait for her. I needed the reassurance of her warm body next to mine and the feel of her arms wrapped around me. I imagined her holding me, whispering that this was all real and nothing would change in the morning. Before long, my eyes drifted closed and I slipped back into an uneasy sleep.

Sometime later, I awoke again, still alone. Rolling over quickly, I looked at the time: 5:14 a.m.

What? Fumbling in the darkness, I put on the first thing I found and walked to the bathroom.

"Amy?" No answer. I knocked softly. "Amy?" A groan and a soft shuffle sounded from the other side of the door.

"Just go away." Her voice was hoarse and echoed off the bathroom walls.

"Amy, are you okay?"

"I'm not feeling well. I'll be fine, go back to bed."

"Is there anything I can get you?" I asked.

"I'm fine. Just please, go back to bed."

"But—"

"Karma," he groaned, obviously annoyed

I turned, unsure of what to do, battling an odd, unsettling feeling. Did she even get sick? In just under a year, I'd never seen her with so much as a stuffy nose. It was obvious she didn't want me hovering outside the door, but there was no way I could go back to sleep either.

Walking back to the bed, I straightened the blankets and headed toward the suite's living room. I grabbed a bottle of water from the minibar and sat on the couch.

If she was sick, I mean really sick, there was no way she could make the Gugliotti meeting in a couple of hours.

I switched on the TV and began flipping through the channels. Infomercial. Bad movie. Nick at Nite. Ahh, Wayne's World. Sitting back into the couch, I tucked my legs under me and prepared to wait. Halfway through the movie, I heard the water running in the bathroom. I sat up and listened as it was the first sound I'd heard in over an hour. The bathroom door opened and I flew off the couch, grabbing another bottle of water before entering the bedroom.

"Are you feeling better?" I asked.

"Yes. I think I just need to sleep now." She stumbled into bed, burying her face in the pillow with a groan.

"What . . . what was wrong?" I placed the bottle of water down on the bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed next to her.

"It was just my stomach. I think it was the sushi at dinner." Her eyes were closed and even in the dim light coming from the other room, I could see that she looked like hell. She turned away from me slightly but I ignored it, placing one hand in her hair and the other on her cheek. Her hair was damp and her face was pale and clammy, and despite her initial reaction, she leaned into my touch.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" I asked, brushing a few damp strands away from her forehead.

"Because the last thing I needed was you in there watching me throw up," she replied almost grumpily, and I rolled my eyes, offering her the bottle of water.

"I could have done something. You don't have to be such a big girl"

"Don't be such a mom. What could you have done? Food poisoning is a pretty lonely business."

"So what should I tell Gugliotti?"

She groaned, rubbing her hands over her face. "Shit. What time is it?"

I glanced at the clock. "Just after seven."

"What time is the meeting?"

"Eight."

She started to get up but was easy enough to shove back down into the bed. "No way in hell are you going to that meeting like this! When was the last time you threw up?"

She groaned. "A few minutes ago."

"Exactly. Gross. I'll call him to reschedule."

She gripped my arm before I could walk over to the desk and grab my phone. "Karma. You do it."

My eyebrows inched to my hairline. "Do what?"

She waited.

"The meeting?"

She nodded.

"Without you?"

She nodded again.

"You're sending me to a meeting alone?"

"Miss Ashcroft, you're as sharp as a spoon."

"Fuck off," I said, laughing and pushing her gently. "And I'm not doing it without you."

"Why not? I bet you know the account we're offering as well as I do. Besides, if we reschedule he's just going to take a lavish trip to Chicago and send us the bill. Please, Karma."

I stared down at her, waiting for her to break into a teasing grin or take it back. But she didn't. And the truth was, I did know the account, and I did know the terms. I could do this.

"Okay," I said, smiling and feeling a surge of hope that we could figure this—us—out after all. "I'm in."

Her face grew harder, and she used the voice I had barely heard in days. It sent small waves of hunger through me. "Tell me the plan, Miss Ashcroft."

Nodding, I said, "I need to make sure he's clear on the project parameters and timelines. I'll watch out for overpromising; I know Gugliotti is notorious for that." When Amy nodded, smiling a little, I continued. "I'll confirm the contract start dates and the milestones."

When I ticked all five of them off on my fingers, her smile grew. "You'll be fine."

I bent and kissed her damp forehead. "I know."

Two hours later, if you asked me if I could fly, I would have answered yes in an instant.

The meeting had gone off perfectly. Mr. Gugliotti, who had initially been peeved to find an intern in the place of a Raudenfeld executive, had softened when he heard the circumstances. And later, he seemed impressed with the level of detail I was able to provide.

He'd even offered me a job. "After you finish with Miss Raudenfeld, of course," he'd said with a wink, and I carefully demurred.

I wasn't sure I ever wanted to be done with Miss Raudenfeld.

On the way back from the meeting, I called Farrah to find out what Amy liked when she was sick. Just as I suspected, the last time she'd been able to spoil her with chicken noodle soup and Popsicles, she'd been wearing braces. She was delighted to hear from me, and I had to swallow the guilt I felt when she asked if she was behaving. I assured her that all was fine and that she was only suffering from a mild stomach bug and that, of course, I'd have her call. With a small bag of groceries in hand, I walked into the room, stopping in the small kitchen area to drop off the food and take off my tailored wool suit.

Wearing only my slip, I moved into the bedroom, but Amy wasn't there. The bathroom door was open, and she wasn't there either. It looked as if housekeeping had been in; the linens were crisp and neat, and the floor had been tidied of our piles of discarded clothes. The balcony door was open, letting in a cool breeze. Outside, I found her sitting in a chaise, elbows propped on her knees, her head in her hands. She looked like she'd had a shower and was now dressed in dark skinny jeans and a short-sleeved white shirt.

My skin hummed, warming at the sight of her.

"Hey," I said.

She looked up, eyes taking in every curve. "Holy fuck. I hope you didn't wear that to the meeting."

"Well, I did," I said, laughing. "But I wore it beneath a very prim navy suit."

"Good," she growled. She pulled me close, wrapping her arms all the way around my waist and pressing her forehead into my stomach. "I missed you."

My chest twisted tightly. What were we doing? Was this real or were we playing house for a few days and then returning to normal? I didn't think I could do our normal after this and wasn't sure I could see several steps into the future to how this all played out.

 _Ask her, Karma!_

She looked up at me, her stare burning hot on my face as she waited for me to say something. "Are you feeling better?" I asked.

 _Coward._

Her face fell but she hid it quickly. "Much," she said. "How did the meeting go?"

Although I was still on a high from the meeting with Gugliotti and was dying to tell her every detail, when she asked this, she removed her arms from my waist and sat back, leaving me feeling cold and hollow. I wanted to hit the rewind button and take us back two minutes to when she told me she'd missed me, and I could answer, "I missed you too." I'd kiss her, and we'd get distracted, and I'd tell her all about Gugliotti a few hours from now.

But instead I gave her every detail of the meeting, how Gugliotti reacted to me, and how I redirected his focus to the project at hand. I recounted every aspect of the discussion in such detail that by the end of my story, Amy was laughing quietly.

"My, you're wordy."

"I think it went well," I said, stepping closer. _Put your arms around me again._

But she didn't. She leaned back and gave me a stiff smile, the detached Beautiful Bitch kind. "You were great, Karma. I'm not at all surprised."

I wasn't used to this kind of compliment from her. Improved handwriting, great pussy eater—these were the things she knew how to notice. I was surprised how much her opinion mattered to me. Had it always mattered so much? Would she start to treat me differently if we were lovers instead of fuck buddies? I wasn't actually sure I even wanted her to be softer as a boss, or try to blend lover and mentor. I rather liked the Beautiful Bitch at work, as well as in bed.

But as soon as I thought it, I realized the way we used to interact now felt like a strange, foreign object in the distance, or a pair of shoes that I'd long since outgrown. I was torn between wanting her to say something bitchy to jerk me back into reality and wanting her to pull me closer and kiss my breast through my slip.

 _Again, Karma. Reason number 750,000 you don't fuck your boss. You turn a well-defined relationship into a mess of blurry boundaries._

"You look so tired," I whispered as I began running fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck.

"I am," she mumbled. "I'm glad I didn't go. I threw up. A lot."

"Thanks for sharing," I laughed. Reluctantly, I pulled away and put my hands on her face. "I brought Popsicles, ginger ale, gingersnaps, and saltines. Which do you want first?"

She stared at me, completely confused for a beat before blurting, "You called my _mom_?"

I went down to the conference for a few hours in the afternoon so she could sleep some more. She put up a strong front, but I could tell even half of a lime Popsicle made her queasy when she turned a matching shade of green. Besides, at this conference in particular she could barely walk ten steps without being stopped, fawned over, and pitched to. Even healthy she wouldn't make it far enough to see anything worth her time anyhow.

When I returned to the room, she was sprawled on the couch in a most un–Beautiful Bitch–like pose, there was something so ordinary about the way she sat, bored, staring at the television. I was grateful for the reminder that this woman was, in some ways, just a woman. Just another person, moving around the planet, getting her bearings, not spending every second lighting the world's stage on fire.

And buried within that epiphany that Amy was just Amy was a sense of wild longing because there was this chance that she was becoming my _Just Amy_ , and for a heartbeat, I wanted that more than I think I'd ever wanted anything.

A woman with freakishly shiny hair flipped her head and grinned at us from the television. I collapsed on the couch next to her. "What are we watching?"

"A shampoo commercial," she answered, her hand reached for mine and began to massage my fingers. "Clerks is on, though."

"That's one of my favorite movies," I said.

"I know. You were quoting it the first day I met you."

"Actually, that was Clerks II," I clarified, and then stopped. "Wait, you remember that?"

"Of course I remember that. You sounded like a frat boy and looked like a fucking model. Who could ever forget that?"

"I would have given anything to know what you were thinking right then."

"I was thinking, 'Highly fuckable intern, twelve o'clock. Breath Amy, _breath_."

I laughed and leaned against her shoulder. "God, that first meeting was miserable."

She didn't say anything but kept running her thumb along my fingers, pressing and soothing. I had never had a hand massage before, and if she'd tried to turn it to oral sex, I might have turned her down just to keep her doing what she was doing.

 _Wow, that's a total lie. I'd take that mouth between my legs any day of the—_

"How do you want it to be, Karma?" she asked, pulling me out of my internal debate.

"What?"

"When we're back in Chicago."

I stared blankly at her, my pulse sending my blood thrumming in heavy bursts through my veins.

"Us," she clarified, with forced patience. "You and me. Karma and Amy. I realize this isn't simple for you."

"Well, I'm pretty sure I don't want to fight all the time." I bumped her shoulder playfully. "Although I do sort of like that part."

Amy laughed, but it didn't sound like a completely happy noise. "There's a lot of space that comes after 'not fighting all the time.' Where do you want to be?"

 _Together. Your girlfriend. Someone who sees the inside of your home and stays there with you sometimes._

I started to answer and the words evaporated in my throat.

"I guess that depends on whether it's realistic to think it can be anything."

She dropped my hand and scrubbed her face. The movie came back on and we fell into what I think was the most awkward silence in the history of the world.

Finally, she picked my hand up again and kissed my palm. "Okay, baby. I can handle just not fighting all the time."

I stared at her fingers wrapped around mine. After what felt like an eternity, I managed, "Sorry. This all feels a little new."

"For me too," she reminded me.

We fell into silence again as we continued to watch the movie, laughing in the same places and slowly shifting until I was practically lying on top of her. Out of the corner of my eye I glanced at the clock on the wall and mentally calculated the hours we had left in San Diego.

Fourteen.

Fourteen hours left of this perfect reality where I could have her whenever I wanted her and it didn't have to be secret or dirty, using anger as our only form of foreplay.

"What's your favorite movie?" she asked, rolling me over so she hovered above me. Her skin was a little hot and I wanted to take off my blouse, but I didn't want her to move even an inch, for even a second.

"I like comedies, rom-coms, fiction, classics" I began "There's Clerks but also _Pitch Perfect, The Notebook, Harry Potter, Titanic, The Breakfast club, When Harry met Sally, Pretty in Pink;_ things like that. But I would have to say my all-time favorite movie would probably be Rear Window."

"Because of Jimmy Stewart or Grace Kelly?" she asked, bending to kiss a trail of fire up my neck.

"Both, but probably Grace Kelly."

"I can see that. You have very Grace Kelly–like tendencies about you." Her hand came up and smoothed a piece of my hair that had come loose from my ponytail. "I hear Grace Kelly had a dirty mouth too," she added.

"You love my dirty mouth."

"True. But I like it better when it's eating my pussy" she said, meaningful smirk in place.

"You know, if you would shut up once in a while you'd be damn near perfect."

"But I'd be a silent panty ripper, which I think is a lot creepier than the angry-boss panty ripper."

I dissolved into giggles under her and she dug a finger between my ribs, tickling.

"I know you love it," she said, her voice hoarse.

"Amy?" I said, trying to sound nonchalant. "What do you do with them?"

She gave me a dark, teasing look. "I keep them somewhere safe."

"Can I see?"

"No."

"Why?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at her.

"Because you'll try and take them back."

"Why would I want them back? They're all ruined."

She grinned at me but didn't answer.

"Why do you do that anyway?"

She studied me for a moment, obviously considering her answer. Finally, she lifted herself onto her elbow and moved her face to within inches of mine. "For the same reason you like it."

With that, she stood up and pulled me with her into the bedroom.


	14. Chapter 14

Amy's POV

I woke up when my pillow was yanked out from under my head and Karma mumbled something incoherent about tea and tofu.

The woman was a sleep-talking, restless bed hog.

I ran a greedy hand over her ass before rolling to look at the clock. It was only a little after five in the morning, but I knew we had to get moving soon to make our eight o'clock flight. As much as I hated to leave our merry little den of sin, I hadn't done any work here and was starting to feel increasingly guilty about the career I'd essentially neglected. For the past decade my career had been my life, and although I was growing more comfortable with the obliterating effect Karma had on that balance, I had to retrieve my focus. It was time to get home, put on the Boss Hat, and start taking names.

The early morning sun filtered in and washed her pale skin a gray-blue light. She was curled on her side, facing me, her hair a red tangle across the pillow behind her. Most of her face was now cuddled into my pillow.

I could understand her hesitance to decide how our relationship would work back in reality. The San Diego bubble had been amazing, in part because it lacked every aspect that made our relationship tricky to begin with: her job at Raudenfeld Media, my role in the family business, her scholarship, and our independently sharp attitudes. Although I wanted to push to define this thing between us and set expectations so that I could dive in headfirst, her approach—far more tentative—was probably the right one.

We hadn't bothered to pull the blankets back on the bed after we'd worked them to the floor last night, and I took the chance to stare at her nude body. I could definitely get used to waking up with this woman in my bed.

But unfortunately, we didn't have a leisurely morning ahead of us. I tried to wake her with my hand on her shoulder, then a kiss on her neck, and finally a hard pinch on her ass.

She reached out and smacked my arm hard before I'd even pulled it back. I wasn't even sure she was awake. "Asshole."

"We should get up and get going. We need to be at the airport in a little over an hour."

Karma rolled over and stared up at me, face lined with pillow creases and her eyes unfocused. She didn't bother to cover her body like she had the first morning, but she wasn't all smiles, either. "Okay," she said. She sat up, drank some water, and kissed my shoulder before climbing out of bed.

I watched her naked body as she walked to the bathroom, but not once did she look back at me. I didn't exactly need a morning quickie, but I wouldn't have minded a little spooning, maybe some pillow talk.

 _Probably shouldn't have pinched her ass, then._

She didn't emerge, and after collecting my things, I knocked on the bathroom door. "I'm heading next door to shower and pack."

She was quiet for a few beats. "Okay."

"Can I get something other than 'okay'?"

Her laugh trailed from the other side of the door. "I believe I said 'asshole' earlier."

I grinned.

But when I reached for the door to leave, she opened the bathroom door and stepped directly into my arms, wrapping herself around me and pressing her face to my neck. She was still naked, and when she glanced up, her eyes seemed a little red.

"Sorry," she said, kissing my jaw before pulling me down for a longer, deeper kiss. "I just get nervous before flying."

She turned and walked back into the bathroom before I could meet her eyes and figure out if she was telling me the truth.

The room next door felt eerily spotless, even for a high-end hotel chain. It took no time to pack, no time to shower and dress. But something kept me from going back over to Chloe's room so soon. It was as if she needed some time alone in there, to deal with whatever silent battle she was waging with herself. I could tell she was conflicted, but which way would she come down in the end? Would she decide she wanted to try? Or would she decide it wasn't possible to balance work and us?

When impatience won out over chivalry, I pulled my bag into the hallway and knocked on her door.

She opened it, dressed like a naughty businesswoman pinup, and it took me approximately eight years to move my attention from her legs, up over her breasts, and finally to her face.

"Hey, gorgeous."

She gave me a shaky smile. "Hey."

"Ready to go?" I asked, starting to walk past her to get her bag. The sleeve of my jacket brushed against her bare arm, and before I fully understood what was happening, she had my back pressed against the wall, her mouth sliding over mine.

I froze, surprised. "Whoa, hello there tigress," I mumbled against her lips.

With one hand splayed on my chest, she began loosening my shirt and I groaned into her mouth when I felt myself getting wet because of her, making me totally forget about the flight we have to catch in a few hours.

"Karma," I said, struggling to pull back from her kisses. "Baby, we don't have time for this."

"I don't care." She was nothing but teeth and lips, suction all down my neck, her hungry hands roaming all over my body, palming _me._

I cursed under my breath, completely unable to resist the way she gripped me through my pants, her bossy wiggling and tugging on my clothes. "Fuck, Karma, you're so hot."

I whipped her around, pressing her back into the wall and shoving my hand up beneath her blouse, roughly pushing the cup of her bra aside. Her greediness was infectious, and my fingers relished the pebbling of her nipples, the firm swell of her breast as she pushed forward into my palm. I reached down and slid her skirt over her hips, shoved her underwear down, and she kicked it aside. I needed to be in her, now.

"Tell me you want me," she said, the words coming out as exhales, only air. She was trembling; her eyes were squeezed closed.

"You have no idea. I want everything you'll give me."

"Tell me we can do this." When my fingers slipped against her, pushing just inside, I covered her mouth as she let out a small, keening noise. Almost a moan.

Almost a sob.

I pulled back, inspecting her face. Tears ran down her cheeks.

"Karma?"

"Don't stop," she said, hiccupping, leaning to suck at my neck. Hiding. It was a weird kind of desperation. We knew frenzied fucking, and we knew covert quickies, but this was something else entirely.

"Stop." I pressed closer, pinning her tightly to the wall. "Baby, what's wrong?"

"I just need to feel you one more time."

"What are you talking about, 'one more time'?"

She wouldn't look at me, wouldn't say anything.

"Karma, when we leave this room, we can leave everything here. Or we can take everything we have with us. I believe we can figure it out . . . but do you?"

She nodded, her lip pinned between her teeth so tightly the pink flesh was white. When she released it, it flushed a decadent, tempting red. "I want to."

"I told you, I want more than this. I want to be with you. I want to be your lover." I swore, digging my hands into my hair. "I'm falling for you, Karma."

She bent over, laughing, relief spreading through her body. When she stood, she pulled me close again, pressing her lips to my cheek. "You're serious?"

"Totally serious. I want to be the only one who fucks you on tables, and also the first person you see in the morning—from where you lie, having stolen my pillow. I'd also like to be the person who gets you lime Popsicles when you've had bad sushi. We only have a few months left where it's potentially complicated."

With my mouth on hers, and my hands on her face, I think she finally started to understand. "Promise me you'll take me to bed when we get back," she said.

"I promise."

"Your bed."

"Fuck yes, my bed. My bed is huge; with a headboard I can tie you to and spank you silly for being so ridiculous."

And in that moment, we were completely perfect.

In the hall, after one final kiss to her palm, I dropped her hand and led her down to the lobby.

Karma's POV

Amy went to get the car while I checked us out at reception. With one final glance around the lobby, I tried to download every memory of the trip. When I stepped outside I saw Amy standing near the valet. My heart felt like a wild drum beneath my ribs. I was still reeling. I realized she'd given me so many chances to tell her what I wanted, and I'd just been too unsure of whether we could ever make it work. Apparently, her spine was stronger than mine.

 _I'm falling for you._

My stomach twisted deliciously.

Mr. Gugliotti spotted Amy from the sidewalk and moved to her. They shook hands, seemed to exchange pleasantries. I wanted to walk up, join the discussion as a peer, but was worried that I wouldn't be able to contain what was presently happening to my heart, and my feelings for Amy would show all over my face.

Mr. Gugliotti looked up at me but didn't seem to recognize me out of context. He blinked back to Amy, nodding at something she said, and that lack of recognition made me hesitate even more. I wasn't someone to be noticed yet. The checkout paperwork, Amy's to-do list, and her briefcase were all in my hand. I hovered at the periphery: an intern.

Hanging back, I tried to enjoy the last few moments of ocean breeze. Amy's voice carried across the few feet separating us.

"Sounds like you all threw around some good ideas. I'm glad Karma had the chance to go through the exercise."

Nodding, Mr. Gugliotti said, "Karma is sharp. It went just fine."

"I'm sure we can telecon soon to start the process of handing it over."

 _Exercise? Start?_ Isn't that what I'd done? I had given Gugliotti papers from legal to sign and FedEx back.

"Sounds good. I'll have Annie call to set something up. I'd like to go over the terms with you. I wasn't comfortable signing them quite yet."

"Of course you weren't."

My heart sped up as the spiral of panic and humiliation rose in my veins. It was as if the meeting that took place had been a mere performance for my benefit and the real work would happen between these two, back in the real world.

 _Was this entire conference one giant fantasy?_ I felt ridiculous, remembering the details I'd shared with Amy. How proud I'd been to have crossed this off her list and taken care of it so she could get better.

"Lauren mentioned that Karma's got a Miller scholarship. That's fantastic. Is she staying on at Raudenfeld Media after she finishes?" Gugliotti asked.

"Not sure yet. She's a great kid. Definitely needs some seasoning, though."

I lost my breath in a rush, as if it'd been pulled out by a vacuum. Amy had to be kidding. I knew, without Hank having to tell me (and he had, countless times), that I could have my pick of jobs when I finished. I'd worked at Raudenfeld Media for years, working my ass off to both do my job and get a graduate degree. I knew some of the accounts better than the people managing them. Amy knew this.

Gugliotti chuckled. "Seasoning or no, I'd snatch her up in a beat. She held her own in there, Amy."

"Of course she did," Amy said. "Who do you think trained her? The meeting with you was a great way for her to get her feet wet, so I appreciate it. No doubt she'll be just fine wherever she ends up. When she's ready."

She sounded nothing like either Amy Raudenfeld I knew. This wasn't the lover I'd just left a moment ago, grateful to and proud of me for capably stepping in for her. And this wasn't even the Beautiful Bitch, begrudgingly parsing out praise. This was someone else entirely. Someone who called me "kid" and acted like she'd done _me_ a fucking favor.

I felt my face flame with anger and I stumbled back into the hotel lobby, suddenly feeling like there wasn't enough oxygen, anywhere.

Seasoning? I did fine? She'd been my mentor? In what freaking universe?

I stared at the shoes of people moving in front of me as they came and left through the revolving lobby doors. Why did it feel like my stomach had dropped out, leaving nothing but a hole filled with acid?

I'd been in the business world long enough to know how it works. The people at the top don't get there by sharing credit. They get there through big promises, big claims, and bigger egos.

 _In my first six months at Raudenfeld Media, I brought in a sixty-million-dollar marketing account._

 _I managed the hundred-million-dollar L'Oréal skin portfolio._

 _I designed the latest campaign for Nike._

 _I made a country bumpkin into a business shark_

I had always felt like she praised me against her will, and there had been something satisfying about proving her wrong, about exceeding her expectations almost to spite her. But now that we'd admitted our feelings had turned into something more, she wanted to rewrite history. She hadn't been a mentor to me; I hadn't needed her to be. She hadn't pushed me to succeed—if anything, before this trip, she'd stood in my way. She'd tried to get me to quit by being a bitch.

I'd fallen for her despite all of this, and now she was throwing me under the bus just to save face for missing a fucking meeting.

My heart splintered into a thousand pieces.

"Karma?"

I looked up and met her confused expression. "The car is ready. I thought we were meeting outside?"

I blinked, wiped my eye as if I had something in it, and not as if I was about to break down in the lobby of the W.

"Right." I stood, collected my things, and looked up at her. "I forgot."

Of all of the lies I'd ever told her, this was the worst, because she saw it, and from the way her brows pulled together and she stepped closer, eyes anxious and searching, she had no idea why I felt like I needed to lie about something like that.

"You okay, baby?"

I blinked. I'd loved it when she'd called me that twenty minutes ago, but now it felt all wrong. "Just tired."

Again, she knew I was lying, but this time she didn't push it. She placed her hand on my lower back and led me out to the car.


	15. Chapter 15

Amy's POV

I knew women could get moody out of the blue. But that didn't feel like what was going on with Karma, and she'd never been that kind of woman anyway. I'd seen her mad before. Hell, I'd seen every flavor of mad from her: pissed, irate, hateful, borderline violent.

I'd never seen her hurt.

She buried herself in documents on the short drive to the airport. She excused herself to check in with her father when we were waiting at our gate. On the plane, she fell asleep almost as soon as we were in our seats, ignoring my very clever requests to join the mile-high club. She woke up only long enough to decline lunch, even though I knew she hadn't eaten any breakfast. When she woke up as we began our descent, she stared out the window instead of looking at me.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

She didn't answer for what felt like forever, and my heart started to race. I tried to figure out all of the moments I could have fucked up. Sex with Karma in bed. More sex with Karma. Orgasms for Karma. She had a lot of orgasms, to be honest. I didn't think it was that. Wake up, shower, and basically profess my love. Hotel lobby, Gugliotti, airport.

I paused. The conversation with Gugliotti had left me feeling a little slimy. I'm not sure why I had acted like such a possessive bitch, but there wasn't any denying that Karma had that effect on me. She'd been amazing at the meeting, I knew she had, but I would be damned if she would take a step down and work for a man like Gugliotti when she finished her degree. He'd probably treat her like a piece of meat and stare at her ass all day.

"I heard what you said." Her voice was so quiet it took me a moment to register that she'd said something, and then another beat to process it. My stomach dropped.

"What I said when?"

She smiled, turning to look at me finally, and fuck me: she was crying. "To Gugliotti."

"I sounded possessive. I'm sorry."

"You sounded possessive . . ." she muttered, turning back to the window. "You sounded dismissive—you made me seem naïve! You acted like the meeting was a training exercise. I feel ridiculous for how I described it to you yesterday, thinking it was something more."

I put my hand on her arm, laughing a little. "Guys like Gugliotti have egos. He just needs to feel like the executives are listening to him. You did everything we needed. He just wants me to be the one to hand him the official contract."

"But that's absurd. And you perpetuated it, with me as the pawn."

I blinked, confused. I did exactly what she said. But that's how the game is played, isn't it? "You're my intern."

A sharp laugh escaped her lips and she turned to me again. "Right. Because you've cared all this time how my career progresses."

"Of course I do."

"How would you know I need seasoning? You barely looked at my work before yesterday."

"Patently false." I shook my head, getting a little riled. "I know that because I've watched everything you do. I don't want to put pressure on you to do more than you can right now, and that's why I'm maintaining control of the Gugliotti account. But you did a great job in there, and I was very proud of you."

She closed her eyes, and leaned her head back against her seat. "You called me 'kid.'"

"I did?" I searched my memory and realized she was right. "I guess I just didn't want him to see you as this bombshell businesswoman he could hire away and try to fuck."

"Jesus, Amy. You are such an asshole! Maybe he wanted to hire me because I can do the job well!"

"I apologize. I'm acting like a possessive girlfriend."

"The possessive girlfriend thing isn't new to me. It's that you're acting like you did me a favor. It's how condescending you're being. I'm not sure now is the best time to engage in more typical boss-intern interactions."

"I told you I think you did an amazing job with him."

She glared at me, her face turning red. "You never would have said that before. You would have said, 'Good. Back to work.' That's it. And to Gugliotti you acted like you have me under your thumb. Before you would have pretended you didn't even know me."

"Do we really need to discuss why I was a bitch before? You weren't exactly Little Miss Sunshine yourself. And why is now the time to hash this out?"

"This isn't about you being a bitch before. It's about how you're being now. You're compensating. This is exactly why you don't fuck your boss. You were a fine boss before—you let me do my thing and you did yours. Now you're the touchy-feely mentor who calls me 'kid' to the guy I saved your ass with? Unbelievable."

"Karma—"

"I can deal with you being a giant bitch, Amy. I'm used to it, I expect it. It's how we work. Because beneath all the huffing and door slamming, I knew that you respected me. But how you were today—it puts a line there that wasn't there before . . ." She shook her head, glanced back out the window.

"I think you're overreacting."

"Maybe," she said, leaning down to dig her phone out of her purse. "But I've worked my ass off to get where I am—am I risking all that?"

"We can do both, Karma. For a few more months, we can work together and be together. This? What's happening today? Is called growing pains."

I'm not sure," she said, blinking away and looking past me. "I'm just trying to do the smart thing, Amy. I never questioned my own worth before, even when I thought you did. And then when I believed you saw exactly who I was, and you belittled me . . ." She looked up, eyes pained. "I guess I don't want to start questioning myself now. After everything I've worked for."

The plane landed with a jolt and even still it didn't rattle me as much as what she said. I had led discussions with the heads of some of the largest finance departments in the world. I had taken on executives who thought they could squash me. I could fight with this woman until the world ended and feel like more of a woman with every word. But right then, I couldn't find a single thing to say.

To say I couldn't sleep that night would be an understatement. I could barely even lie down. Every flat surface seemed to have her imprint, and it didn't matter that she'd never been to my place. The mere fact that we talked about it—and that I'd planned for her to come here our first night back—made her ghost as good as permanent.

I called her; she didn't answer. Granted, it was at three in the morning, but I knew she wasn't sleeping either. Her silence was worsened by the fact that I knew she felt what I felt. I knew she was in just as deep as I was. But she thought she shouldn't be.

Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.

I got in at six, before I knew she'd be there. I got us both coffee, updated my calendar to save her some time she could use to catch up after being gone. I faxed the contract to Gugliotti, telling him the version he saw in San Diego was final, and whatever Karma presented would stand. I gave him two days to return the signature pages.

And then, I waited.

At eight, my father came into my office, Lauren close behind. Dad scowled often, but rarely at me. Lauren never looked pissed.

But both of them looked like they wanted to murder me.

"What did you do?" Dad dropped a piece of paper on my desk.

Ice dripped into my veins. "What is that?"

"It's Karma's resignation letter. She dropped it off with Zita this morning."

It was a full minute before I could speak. In that time, the only sound was my stepsister saying, "What the hell happened, Amy?"

"I fucked up," I said, finally, pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes.

Dad sat down, face composed. He was sitting in the chair that, not a month ago, Karma had sat in, spread her legs, and touched herself while I tried to keep it together on the phone.

 _Christ, how did I let it get to this?_

"Tell me what happened." My father's voice got very quiet: a lull between quakes.

 _Karma left me._

"We're together. Or, we were."

Lauren shouted, "I fucking knew it!" just as Dad yelled, _"You what?"_

"Not until San Diego," I reassured them quickly. "Before San Diego we were just—"

"Fucking like rabbits?" Lauren offered helpfully, and received a sharp look from Dad.

"Yes. We were just . . ." A spike of pain gouged into my chest. Her expression when I leaned in to kiss her. Her full bottom lip caught between my teeth. Her laugh against my mouth. "And as you both know, I was a bitch. She gave back just as good, though," I assured them. "And in San Diego, it became more. Fuck." I reached for the letter before pulling my hand back. "She really resigned?"

My father nodded, his face completely unreadable. It was his superpower, all my life: in the moments when he felt the most, he showed the least.

"This is why we have the office fraternization policy, Ames," he said, softening his tone with my nickname. "I thought you knew better than this."

"I know." I scrubbed my hands over my face and then motioned for Lauren to sit down, and told them every detail of what happened with my food poisoning, the meeting with Gugliotti, and how Karma had covered, capably. I made it clear that we had essentially just decided to be together when I ran into Ed at the hotel.

"You really are a stupid bitch" my stepsister offered once I'd finished, and what could I do but agree?

After a stern lecture and an assurance that there would be more discussion on all of the ways I fucked up, Dad went to his office to call Karma to request that she come work for him for the remainder of her internship.

His concern wasn't just for Raudenfeld Media, though if she chose to stay on after she finished her MBA, she could easily become one of the most important members of our strategic marketing team. It was also that she had less than three months left to find a new internship, learn the ropes, and take on a new project to present to the scholarship board. Given their influence on the business school, their feedback would determine whether Karma would graduate with honors and receive a personal letter of recommendation from the CEO of JT Miller.

It could make or break the beginning of her career.

Lauren and I sat in stony silence for the next hour; he glared at me and I stared out the window. I could almost feel how much he wanted to kick my ass. Dad came back into my office and picked up her resignation letter, folding it into neat thirds. I still hadn't been able to look at it. She'd typed it, and for the first time since I met her, I wanted nothing more than to see her ridiculously bad penmanship instead of impersonal black-and-white Times New Roman.

"I told her that this company values her and this family loves her and we wanted her to come back." Dad paused, his eyes turning on me. "She said that was more reason for her to do this on her own."

Chicago turned into an alternate universe, one where Billy Sianis never cursed the Cubs, Oprah never existed, and Karma Ashcroft no longer worked for Raudenfeld Media. She resigned. She walked away from one of the biggest deals in Raudenfeld Media history. She walked away from me.

I pulled the Booker file from her desk; the contract was drafted by legal while we were in San Diego, and all it needed was a signature. Karma could have spent the last two months of her master's perfecting her slide presentation for the scholarship board. Instead, she'd be starting all over somewhere else.

How could she have handled everything I gave her before but have left over this? Was it really so important for me to treat her like a peer with a man like Gugliotti that she would sacrifice what we had between us?

With a groan, I suspected that the reason I had to ask that at all was also the reason Karma left. I thought we could have our relationship and our careers too, but that was because I had already proven myself. She was the intern. All she ever wanted was reassurance from me that her career wouldn't suffer from our recklessness, and I ended up being the one to ensure it did.

I had to admit, I was surprised the office wasn't on fire with the story of what I'd done, but it seemed only Dad and Lauren knew. Karma had always kept our secret. I wondered if Zita knew everything that had happened, whether she was in touch with Karma.

I soon had an answer. A few days after Chicago changed, Zita walked into my office without knocking. "This situation is complete bullshit."

I looked up at her and put down the file I held in my hands, staring at her just long enough to make her fidget before I spoke. "I want to remind you that this situation is not your business."

"As her friend it is."

"As an employee of Raudenfeld Media, and an employee of Lauren's, it isn't."

She gazed at me for a long beat and then nodded. "I know. I would never tell anyone, if that's what you mean."

"I mean that, of course. But I also mean your behavior. I won't have you barging into my office without knocking."

She looked contrite but didn't shrink under my stare. I was beginning to see why she and Karma were such close friends: they were both strong willed bordering on reckless, and fiercely loyal. "Understood."

"May I ask why you're here? Did you see her?"

"Yes."

I waited. I didn't want to press her confidence, but good lord, I did want to shake every detail out of her.

"She's been offered a job at Studio Marketing."

I let out a tense breath. A decent firm, if small. An up-and-comer with some good junior executives but a few real assholes at the top. "Who is she reporting to?"

"A guy named Julian."

I closed my eyes to hide my reaction. Troy Julian was on our board, an egomaniac with a penchant for barely legal arm candy. Karma would know this; what was she thinking?

Think, idiot.

She was probably also thinking that Julian would have the resources to get her a project that she could get worked up substantially enough to present in three months.

"What's her project?"

Zita walked to my door and closed it to keep the information quiet. "Sanders' Pet Chow."

I stood, slamming my hands on my desk. Fury strangled me, and I closed my eyes to get a grip on my temper before taking it out on my brother's assistant. "That's a tiny account."

"She's only a master's student, Miss Raudenfeld. Of course it's a tiny account. Only someone in love with her would let her work on a million-dollar, ten-year marketing contract." Without looking back at me, she turned and left my office.

Karma didn't answer her cell, her home phone, or any e-mails I sent to the personal account she had on file. She didn't call, come by, or give any indication that she wanted to talk to me. But when your chest feels like it's been cracked open with a pickax and you're unable to sleep, you do things like look up your intern's apartment address, drive over there on a Saturday at five in the morning, and wait for her to come out.

And when she didn't emerge from the building after almost an entire day, I convinced the security guard that I was her cousin and was worried about her health. He escorted me up and stood behind me as I knocked at her door.

My heart was going to slam its way out of my chest. I heard someone moving around inside, walk to the door. I could practically feel her body just inches from mine, separated by wood. A shadow moved through the peephole. And then, silence.

"Karma."

She didn't open the door. But she didn't walk away either.

"Baby, please open up. I need to talk to you."

After what felt like an hour, she said, "I can't, Amy."

I leaned my forehead against the door, pressed my palms flat. A superpower would have come in handy at that moment. Fire hands, or sublimation, or even just the ability to find the right thing to say. Right now, that felt impossible.

"I'm sorry."

Silence.

"Karma. . . Christ. I get it, okay? Berate me for being a new kind of bitch. Tell me to go fuck myself. Do this on your terms—just don't leave."

Silence. She was still right there. I could feel her.

"I miss you. Fuck, do I miss you. A lot."

"Amy, just . . . not now, okay? I can't do this."

 _Was she crying?_ I hated not knowing.

"Hey, lady." The security guard definitely sounded like here was the last place he wanted to be, and I could tell he was pissed I'd lied. "This isn't why you said you wanted up here. She sounds fine. Let's go."

I drove home and proceeded to drink a lot of scotch. For two weeks, I played pool at a seedy bar and ignored my family. I called in sick and only got out of bed to grab an occasional bowl of cereal, or refill my glass, or use the bathroom, whereupon I'd look at my reflection and give myself the finger. I was a sad sack and, having never experienced anything like this before, had no idea how to snap out of it.

Mom came by with some groceries and left them at my doorstep.

Dad left me daily voice mails with updates about work.

Theo brought me more scotch.

Finally, Lauren came by with the only known set of spare keys to my house and dumped a pot of cold water on me, then handed me some takeout Chinese. I ate the food while she threatened to tape pictures of Karma all over my house if I didn't get my shit together and come back to work.

Over the next few weeks, Zita surmised that I was incrementally losing my mind and needed a weekly update. She would keep it professional, telling me how Karma was faring in her new job with Julian. Her project was coming together well. The folks at Sanders loved her. She pitched the campaign to the executives and got their go-ahead. None of this surprised me. Karma was better than anyone they had, by a mile.

Occasionally Zita would let something else drop. "She's back at the gym," "She looks better," or, "She cut her hair a little shorter—it looks really cute," or, "We all went out on Saturday. I think she had a good time, but she left early."

 _Because she had a date?_ I wondered. And then I discarded the thought. I couldn't imagine seeing someone else. I knew what it had felt like between us, and was fairly sure Karma wasn't seeing anyone either.

The updates were never enough. Why couldn't Zita pull out her phone and take some covert pictures? I hoped I would run into Karma at the store, or on the street. I trolled La Perla a few times. But I didn't see her for two months.

One month flies by when you're falling in love with the woman you're using for sex. Two is an eternity when the woman you love leaves you.

So when the eve of her presentation rolled around and I heard from Zita that Karma was prepared and handling Julian with a fist of fire, but also looked "smaller and less like herself," I finally found my ovaries.

I sat down at my desk, opening PowerPoint and pulling up the Booker plan. Beside me, my desk phone rang. I considered not answering it, wanting to focus on this, and only this.

But it was an unknown local number, and a significant portion of my brain wanted to think it could be Karma.

"This is Amy Raudenfeld."

A man's laugh rang through the line. "Beautiful, you are one Stupid Bitch."

 **A/N: So sorry for the late update guys! I've been a little busy! Next chapter is the last one :( But don't worry i'm not done with these two just yet! Thanks a lot for all the reviews, favorites and follows , it means a lot to me!**


	16. Chapter 16

Karma's POV

Director Cheng and the other members of the scholarship board filed in, greeting me amiably before finding seats. I checked my notes, triple-checked the connection between my laptop and the projector system, and waited for the last few stragglers to make their way into the conference room. Ice clinked in glasses as people poured themselves water. Colleagues spoke to each other in low voices, the occasional louder laugh breaking through the quiet.

 _Colleagues._

I had never felt so isolated. Mr. Julian hadn't even bothered to show up to the presentation to support me. Big surprise.

This room was so much like another boardroom, in a building seventeen blocks away. I had stood outside Raudenfeld Media Tower earlier that morning, silently thanking everyone inside for making me who I was. And then I walked, counting the blocks and trying to ignore the twisting pain in my chest, knowing that Amy wouldn't be in the room with me today, beautiful and stoic as always, green deep eyes penetrating my calm exterior.

I missed my project. I missed my coworkers. I missed Amy's ruthless, exacting standards. But mostly, I missed the woman she'd become to me. I hated that I'd felt the need to choose one Amy over the other, and ended up with neither.

An assistant knocked, poking her head in and catching my eye. To Mr. Cheng she said, "I just have a few forms for Karma to sign first. We'll be right back."

Without question I followed her out the door, shaking my hands at my sides and willing my nerves to disappear. _You can do this, Karma._ Twenty measly slides detailing a mediocre five-figure marketing campaign for a local pet food company. Piece of cake.

I just had to get through this, and then I could get the hell out of Chicago and start over somewhere hundreds of miles away. For the first time since I moved here, Chicago felt completely alien to me.

Even so, I was still waiting for the thought of leaving to feel like the right decision.

Instead of stopping at the assistant's desk, we moved on down the hall to another conference room. She opened the door and motioned for me to go in ahead of her. But when I walked in, instead of following, she closed the door behind me, leaving me alone.

Or not alone.

She left me with Amy.

It felt like my stomach evaporated and my chest sank into the hollow space. She stood at the wall of windows at the far side of the room, holding a thick folder. Her eyes were dark green and unreadable.

"Hi." Her voice broke on the single syllable.

I swallowed, looking away to the wall and begging my emotions to stay bottled up. Being away from Amy had been hell. More times a day than I could count, I would fantasize about going back to Raudenfeld Media, or watching her walk into my new cubicle _Officer and a Gentleman–style,_ or seeing her show up at my door with a La Perla bag hanging from a long, teasing finger.

But I wasn't expecting to see her here, and after not seeing her for so long, even that one crooked syllable almost wrecked me. I'd missed her voice, her snark, her lips, and her hands. I'd missed the way she watched me, the way she waited for me first, the way I could tell she had started to love me.

Amy was here. And she looked terrible.

She'd lost weight, and looked like she hadn't slept in weeks. I knew that feeling. Dark circles were carved beneath her eyes and gone was the trademark smirk. In its place was a mouth fixed in a flat line. The fire I'd always assumed was just ingrained in her expression was completely extinguished.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

She lifted a hand and ran it through her hair, completely ruining the pathetic styling job she'd attempted, and my heart twisted at the familiar disarray. "I'm here to tell you that you are a fucking idiot for leaving Raudenfeld Media."

My jaw dropped at her tone, and a familiar surge of adrenaline heated my veins. "I was an idiot about a lot of things. Thanks for coming. Fun reunion." I turned to leave.

"Wait," she said, her voice low and demanding. Old instincts kicked in and I stopped, turning back to her. She'd taken a few steps closer. "We were both idiots, Karma."

"On that we agree. You're right to say you worked hard to mentor me. I learned my idiocy from the biggest idiot of all. Any good stuff I learned from your father."

That one seemed to hit home and she winced, taking a step back. I'd had a million emotions in the past few months: plenty of anger, some regret, frequent guilt, and a steady hum of self-righteous pride, but I realized what I'd just said wasn't fair, and I immediately regretted it. She had pushed me, even if she didn't always mean to, and for that I owed her something.

But as I stood in the cavernous room with her, the silence blooming and spreading like a plague between us, I realized what I'd been completely missing this entire time: she gave me the chance to work on the most important projects. She brought me along to every meeting. She made me write the critical reports, make the difficult calls, handle the delivery of the most sensitive accounting documents.

She'd mentored me—and it had mattered greatly to her.

I swallowed. "I didn't mean that."

"I know. I can see it in your face." She ran her hand across her mouth. "It's partly true, though. I don't deserve credit for how good you are. I suppose I want to take some of it anyway, being an egomaniac. But also because I find you truly inspiring."

The lump that had started in my throat seemed to spread both down and out, clogging my ability to breathe, pressing down against my stomach. I reached for the chair nearest me, repeating, "Why are you here, Amy?"

"Because if you mess this up, I will personally ensure you never work for a Fortune 500 again."

That was not what I expected, and my anger reignited fresh and hot. "I'm not going to mess this up, you bitch. I'm prepared."

"That's not what I'm saying. I have your Booker slides here, and I have handouts here"—she held up a USB drive and a folder—"and if you don't ace this presentation to that board, I will have your ass.

There was no cocky grin, no intentional play on words. But behind what she said, something else began to echo.

 _Us. This is us._

"Whatever you have there isn't mine." I motioned to the drive. "I didn't prepare the Booker slides. I left before I put them together."

She nodded as if I was exceptionally slow. "The contracts were drafted for signature when you resigned. I put these slides together from all of your work. This is what you're presenting today, not some marketing campaign for some shitty dog food."

It was humiliating having her throw that back in my face, and I took a few steps closer. "Damn you, Amy. I worked my ass off for you, and I worked my ass off for Julian. I will work my ass off wherever I go next—whether it's selling pet food or brokering million-dollar campaigns—and I'll be damned if you think you can come in here with this and tell me how to manage my career. You don't control me."

She walked closer. "I don't want to control you."

"Bullshit."

"I want to help you."

"I don't need your fucking help."

"Yes, Karma, you fucking do. Take it. This is your work." She was close enough to reach out and touch me, and took one step closer. Close enough now for me to feel her body heat, smell the way her soap and skin combined into that familiar coconut scent. "Please. You've earned this. It will impress the board more."

A month ago, I'd wanted more than anything to present this account. It had been my life for months. It was mine. I could feel tears forming in my eyes and blinked them back.

"I don't want to be beholden to you."

"This isn't a favor. It's me paying you back. It's me admitting I fucked up. It's me telling you that you've got one of the sharpest business minds I've ever known." Her eyes softened, her hand reaching out to push a strand of hair behind my shoulder. "You won't be beholden to me. Unless you want to be . . . in a completely different way."

"I don't think I could work for you again," I said, pushing the words past the wall of heartbreak in my throat. It was taking every ounce of strength I had to not reach out and touch her.

"That isn't what I mean. I'm telling you that I messed up as a boss." She swallowed nervously, taking a deep breath. "And I really messed up as a lover. I need you to take these slides," she said, holding out the USB drive. "And I need you to take me back."

I stared at her. "I need to get back to the boardroom."

"No, you don't. They're delayed." She glanced at her watch. "About a minute ago I had Lauren call Cheng with some bullshit distraction so I could talk to you alone and tell you A, that you're an idiot and B, that I want another chance with you."

A grin wobbled at the edges of my mouth and I bit down on my lower lip to keep it in check. Amy's eyes flamed victorious.

"I appreciate what you're doing here," I said carefully. "I worked hard on that account, and I do feel ownership over it. If you don't mind, I'd like the board to see the details on the Booker in the handouts you have. But I'm still going to present the Sanders pitch."

She considered this, eyes moving over my face. A muscle in her jaw twitched, a telltale sign of her impatience. "Fine. Pitch it to me here. Convince me you're not committing suicide in there."

Straightening, I said, "The campaign is a play on Top Chef. But each episode, or ad, will feature a different ingredient in their food and will be a challenge to create something high-end gourmet for pets."

Amy's eyes were veiled, but she smiled sincerely. "That's clever, Chloe."

I beamed at her honesty, savoring this moment. "Not really. That's the joke. Sanders ingredients are basic: good meat. Simple grains. Dogs don't care how fancy their food is. They want meat. On a bone. That tastes good. My dad gave his dogs gourmet chow every day, with brown rice and wheatgrass. I'm not kidding. And as a special gift on their birthday he'd give them a cheap, meaty bone. It's the owner who cares about the greens and the brown rice and all that shit. Not the pets."

Her smile broadened.

"It's a way to make fun of ourselves for pampering our pets and embracing that side of us that treats them like cherished family. Sanders' is the meaty-bone chow that you can spoil them with every day. The animal 'judges' will always choose the Sanders recipe."

"You did it."

"A campaign? That's the point."

"Yes, but I knew you could do that. I meant the way you pitched it. You reeled me in, caught me."

I laughed, knowing an Amy compliment when I saw it. "Thank you."

"Take me back, Karma. Tell me right now that you will."

A louder laugh burst out, and I rubbed my hands over my face. "Always such a bossy bitch."

"You're going to pretend you don't miss me? You look like hell too, you know. Shane called me last night as I was putting the slides together—"

I gaped at her. "Shane called you?"

"—and told me you were a mess and I had to get my shit together and find you. I told him it was already under way. I was going to do it anyway, but his call made it easier to come here ready to beg."

"Do you even know how to beg?" I asked, grinning outright now.

Amy licked her lips, dropping her eyes to my mouth. "Probably not. Want to show me?"

"Give it a try. Give me your best grovel."

"With all due respect, I'm going to have to ask you to suck it, Miss Ashcroft."

"Only if you beg."

Her eyes widened, and before she could say anything else, I took the Booker folder from her hand and left.

I entered the boardroom with Amy right on my heels. The murmuring voices stopped when we appeared.

I handed Director Cheng the folder, and he sifted through the handouts of the Booker slides. He smiled. "How on earth did you manage to finish two projects?"

I stammered out a few syllables, completely unprepared for his question.

"She's efficient," Amy said, walking around me and taking a seat at the table. "When she wrapped up the Booker account, we suggested she take a short internship elsewhere until she finished her degree. After all, we're hoping she'll be at Raudenfeld Media for the foreseeable future."

I struggled to hide my shock. _What the hell is she talking about?_

"Fantastic," said an older man at the end of the table. "On Booker?"

Amy nodded. "Working under my father. He needs someone to manage this one since it will take up an FTE. Karma was the obvious choice, if she'll accept."

I swallowed down about five thousand different reactions. The primary one was irritation, for her bringing this up in front of the board. But tangled up with that were also gratitude, excitement, pride. Amy would be getting an earful after I was finished here.

"Well, let's get started then," Cheng said, leaning back in his chair.

I picked up my laser pointer and walked to the front of the room, feeling as though the floor were made of Jell-O. Two seats away from the head of the table, Amy cleared her throat, catching my eye.

I'd need to ask her about that too. Because I was pretty sure that right before I began speaking she mouthed the words "I love you."

 _Sneaky bitch._

They said my presentation would be one for the brochure, the Web site, the company newsletter.

They had me sign some papers, pose for some photos, and shake a lot of hands.

They even offered me a job at JT Miller.

"She's taken," Amy said, pulling me to the side. She stared down at me, wordless, while everyone eventually filtered out of the room.

"Yeah, about that," I said, trying to sound angry. I was still on a crazy high from the presentation, from the discussion, from the entire day. Having Amy within kissing distance didn't hurt at all.

"Please don't say no. I sort of stole Dad's thunder. He was going to call you tonight."

"Is he really going to offer me a job?"

"Are you going to take it?"

I shrugged, feeling giddy. "Who knows? Right now I just want to celebrate."

"You were amazing up there." She bent and kissed my cheek.

"Thank you. It was the most fun I've had in weeks."

"The handouts were good, am I right?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, but you made one critical error."

Her face fell. "What?"

"You admitted that you know how to operate PowerPoint."

With a laugh, she took my laptop bag from me and put it on a chair behind her, stalking closer with a dark smile. "I used to make slides for my boss. I was an intern once too, of course."

Goose bumps broke out along my skin. "Did your boss yell?"

"Occasionally." She ran her index finger up my arm.

"Criticize your handwriting?"

"Constantly." She leaned down, kissed the corner of my mouth.

"Did your boss kiss you?"

"My father has always been more of a handshaker, really."

I laughed, slipping my hands under her jacket so I could wrap my arms around her. "Well, I'm not your intern anymore."

"No, you're my colleague."

I hummed, liking the sound of that.

"And my lover?"

"Yes." My voice shook on the single syllable, and I understood very clearly the meaning of "drowning in relief." I was positive Amy could feel my heart pounding against her.

She bit my earlobe. "I'll have to find new excuses to get you up to the boardroom and naked against the table."

Steam filled my veins, thick and warm. "You don't need excuses to take me home, though."

Amy kissed across my cheek and pressed a single, soft kiss to my mouth. "Karma?"

"Yes, Amy?"

"This flirting is all well and good, but I mean it when I tell you, I can't have you leaving me again. It almost broke me."

My ribs seemed to squeeze all of the air out of my lungs at the thought. "I don't think I could. I don't want to be away from you again either."

"But you need to give me a chance to fix things when I screw up. You know I'm an bitch sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

Growling, she whispered, "And I tear lingerie."

"And hoard it. Don't forget the creepy hoarding."

"But I love you," she said, looking at me with wide eyes. "And I'm on a first-name basis now with most of the sales staff at La Perla. I did a lot of in-store moping while you were gone. I also have it on good authority that I'm the best sex you've ever had. So, hopefully those things outweigh the bad."

"Sold." I pulled her down to me. "Come here." I slid my mouth over her, nibbling her bottom lip. I turned and pressed her against the window, standing on my toes to get closer, as close as I possibly could.

"So demanding now that you're all official."

"Shut up and kiss me," I laughed into her mouth.

"Yes, boss."

 **A/N** : This is it guys, the final chapter! Thanks to everyone who took the time to read, follow and favorite the story! I'm deeply greatful and also a little sad to see this end. Maybe in the near future i will continue this, but right now i'm very piss and heartbroken that Faking it got cancelled, so much potential wated.


	17. Chapter 17

Amy's POV

My mother always told me to find someone who would be my equal in every way.

"Don't let yourself fall for someone who'll put your world before theirs. Fall for the powerhouse who lives as fearlessly as you do. Find the one who makes you want to be a better woman."

I'd definitely found my equal, the woman who made my life a living hell and lived to antagonize me. A woman whose mouth I wanted to tape shut . . . every bit as much as I wanted to kiss it.

My girlfriend, my former intern, Miss Karma Ashcroft.

I'd most certainly found the one who made me want to be a better woman; I had fallen for the fearless one. It just so happened that most days I was unable to get more than two minutes alone with her.

My life: finally get the girl, never actually get to see her.

I'd been traveling for the better part of the last two months in search of office space for the Raundenfeld Media Group branch we were setting up in New York. Karma stayed behind, and while our recent—and rare—weekend together here in Chicago was full of friends, sunshine, and leisure, the time alone with her wasn't nearly enough. We'd socialized the entire weekend, from morning until well past midnight, stumbling back to my place each night, and would barely manage to get our clothes off before having quiet, sleepy sex.

The truth was, our lovemaking each night—which had grown both more intimate and more wild over time, and allowed us only minimal sleep—still never felt like enough. I kept waiting for it to feel like we were settled, or had established some solid routine. But it never happened. I was in a constant state of longing. And Mondays were the worst. Mondays we had wall-to-wall meetings, and the entire workweek stretched out ahead of me: bleak and Karmaless.

Hearing the familiar cadence of heels clicking on the tile, I looked up from where I stood at the printer waiting for some documents to appear. As if hearing my inner plea, Karma Ashcroft walked toward me, wearing a slim red wool skirt, a fitted navy sweater, and heels that, quite frankly, didn't look very safe outside of the bedroom. When I'd left early this morning to prepare for an eight o'clock meeting, the only thing she'd been wearing was a pale beam of light from the sunrise through the bedroom window.

I suppressed my smile, and tried not to look too desperate, but I don't know why I bothered. She could read my every expression.

"I see you've found the magic machine that takes whatever is on your computer screen and puts it on paper," she called. "In ink."

I slid my hand into my pants pocket, jiggled some change there, and felt a trickle of adrenaline slip into my veins at her teasing tone and approach. "Actually, I discovered this wonderful contraption my first day here. I just liked the moments of blissful quiet when I'd make you get up and leave the outer office to retrieve my documents."

She stalked toward me, her smile wide and eyes mischievous. "Bitch."

Fuck, yes. Come to me, lovely. Ten minutes in the copy room? I could easily make your day in those ten minutes.

"You're in for a workout tonight," she whispered as, without slowing her pace, she patted my shoulder and continued past me down the hall.

I stared at her ass as she gave it a little shake, and waited for her to come back and torture me some more. She didn't. That's it? That's all I get? A pat on the shoulder, some verbal foreplay, and an ass-wiggle?

Still, tonight: our first full evening alone together in weeks.

We'd been in love for over a year—and f**king longer than that—and we'd yet to have more than the length of a weekend alone together since San Diego.

I sighed and pulled my papers from the printer tray. We needed a vacation.

Back in my office, I dropped the files on my desk and stared at my computer monitor, which, to my surprise, displayed a mostly empty calendar. I'd pulled insanely long workdays the entire week before just so I could get home to Karma early, so aside from Payroll grabbing me early this morning, my schedule had remained open. Karma, however, was clearly busy in her new position.

I missed having her as my intern. I missed bossing her around. I really missed her bossing me around in return.

For the first time in months, I had time to sit in my office and literally do nothing. I closed my eyes and a hundred thoughts filtered past in mere seconds: the view of the empty New York offices just before I'd left for the airport. The prospect of packing up my house. The far preferable prospect of unpacking in a new home with Karma. And then my brain went down its favorite path: Karma naked and in every conceivable position.

Which led back to one of my favorite memories of Karma and me: the morning after her presentation. Due to the heat and tension that came with actually admitting we were no longer hate-fucking but actually interested in something more, we had had one of our biggest arguments ever. I hadn't seen her in months, so I showed up at her presentation for the scholarship board to watch her nail it. And she did.

Afterward, though, despite everything we'd said upstairs in the boardroom, there was still so much more to say. The reality of our reunion still felt so new, and I hadn't been sure where we stood.

Once we were on the sidewalk, I stared down at her: at her eyes, and lips, and her neck, which was still a little red from the biting kisses I'd placed there only minutes before. The way she reached up and rubbed her finger over what appeared to be a small hickey pushed an electric reminder from my brain to my vagina: this reunion is nice but it's time to get her home and fuck her into the mattress.

I wasn't sure we were on the same page about that, though.

Outside in the daylight, she looked like she was about to fall over. Of course she was. Knowing Karma, she'd probably been preparing and fine-tuning her presentation for the last seventy-two hours straight, no sleep. But I hadn't seen her in so long—could I keep it together long enough to just let her go home to rest? If she needed to nap, I could just hang out and wait for her to wake up, right? I could lie down near her, reassure myself that she was really here and we were really doing this and just . . . what? Touch her hair?

Holy shit. Had I always been this creepy?

Karma hitched her computer bag up over her shoulder, and the movement pulled me out of my thoughts. But when I blinked back into focus, I saw that she was staring off into the distance, toward the river.

"You okay?" I asked, ducking to meet her eyes.

She nodded, startling a little as if she'd been caught. "I'm fine, just overwhelmed."

"A little shell-shocked?"

Her exhausted smile pulled at something tender beneath my ribs, but the way she licked her lips before speaking tugged inside me a bit lower. "I was so sad thinking I wasn't going to see you today. And this morning, I spent the entire walk between your building and here thinking how weird it was that I was going to be doing this without you, or Lauren, or anyone from Raudenfeld Media. And then you came here, and of course you pissed me off, but you also made me laugh . . ." She tilted her head, studied my face. "The presentation was exactly what I wanted it to be, and then the job offers . . . and you. You told me you love me. You're here."

She reached out to press her palm flat to my chest. I knew she could feel my heart slamming against my sternum. "My adrenaline is slowing and now I'm just . . ." She moved her hand away from me and waved it in front of her before it seemed to deflate at her side. "I'm not sure how tonight is going to work."

How tonight was going to work? I could tell her exactly how it would work. We'd talk until it was dark, and then fuck until the sun came up. I reached for her, slipping my arm around her shoulder. Christ, she felt good.

"Let me worry about all of that. I'll drive you home."

This time she shook her head, pulling more fully back into the moment. "It's okay if you have to go back to work, we can—"

Scowling, I growled, "Don't be ridiculous. It's almost four. I'm not going back to work. My car is here and you're getting in it."

Her smile turned sharp at the corners. "Bossy Amy emerges. Now I'm definitely not going with you."

"Karma, I'm not kidding. I'm not letting you out of my sight until Christmas."

She squinted up at the late afternoon June sun. "Christmas? That sounds a little gimp-in-the-basement for my tastes."

"If you're not into that, this relationship might not work after all," I teased.

She laughed, but didn't answer. Instead, those deep hazel eyes stared up at me, unblinking and hard to read.

I felt so out of practice with this, and struggled to hide my frustration.

Placing my hands on her hips, I bent to press a small kiss to the center of her mouth. Fuck, I needed more. "Let's go. No basements. Just us."

"Amy—"

I cut her off with another kiss, paradoxically relaxed by this tiny disagreement. "My car. Now."

"You sure you don't want to hear what I have to say?"

"Absolutely positive. You can talk all you want once I have my face firmly planted between your legs."

Karma nodded and followed when I took her hand and gently pulled her toward the parking deck, but she was smiling mysteriously all the while.

The entire drive to her place, she tickled her fingers up and down my thigh, leaned to lick my neck, slid her hand over my cunt and talked about the tiny red panties she put on this morning, needing that little confidence boost.

"Will it shatter your confidence if I tear them off?" I asked, leaning to kiss her at a red light. The car behind me honked just when it was getting good: when her lips were giving way to tiny bites and her sounds filled my mouth and my head and—fuck—my entire chest. I needed to get her naked and beneath me.

In the elevator on the way up to her apartment, it was wild. She was here, holy fuck she was here, and I'd missed her so much; if I had my way, this night was going to last for three days. She pushed her skirt up over her hips, and I lifted her, stepping between her legs and pressing my aching fingers into her.

"Going to make you come so many times," I promised.

"Mmm, promise?"

"Promise."

I rocked my hips against her and she gasped, whispering, "Okay, but first—"

The elevator dinged and she wiggled herself free, slipping to the floor. With a hesitating look, Karma smoothed her skirt back down, and walked ahead of me into the hallway and toward her apartment.

My stomach dropped.

I hadn't been back here since we were apart and I'd conned her security guard into letting me up to talk to her. I'd ended up spending the entire time conversing with the outside of her door instead. I felt strangely anxious. I wanted to only feel relieved at our reunion , not think about everything we'd missed out on in our months apart. To distract myself, I bent low and sucked at the skin beneath her ear and began working on the zipper at the back of her skirt as she fumbled with her key.

She swung the door open, turning to me. "Amy—" she started, but I pushed her inside and back against the nearest wall, quieting her with my mouth. Fuck, she tasted good, a mix of the lemon water she'd been drinking and that familiar taste she always had: soft mint and softer, hungry lips. My fingers teased at the back of her skirt but I lost my finesse, yanking the zipper down and shoving the fabric to the floor, immediately reaching for her blazer. Why the fuck is she still wearing this goddamn thing? Why is she still wearing anything?

Beneath her deep purple dress shirt, her nipples hardened as I stared, and I reached out to circle one with a fingertip. Her sharp gasp pulled my eyes to hers.

"I missed this. I missed you."

Her tongue peeked out to wet her lips. "Me, too."

"Fuck, I love you."

When I kissed her throat, her chest lifted and fell with quickened breaths, and I wasn't sure how this was going to go down, how I could possibly slow down. Would I take her here, fast and hard first, or would I carry her to a couch or chair, kneel down, and just taste her? I'd been thinking about all of it for so long—playing out in my head how every scenario would go—and in the moment I felt a little paralyzed by the reality of her here, in the flesh.

I needed it all. I needed to feel her sounds and her skin, lose myself in the comfort of her hand wrapped around me, watch the sweat bead her brow while she rode me, showing me how much she'd missed me, too. I'd see it in the way her rhythm would falter when she got closer, or she would clutch me when I would say her name in that quiet whisper she always liked.

My hands shook as I reached up and carefully slipped her top button free. It registered somewhere in the ever-shrinking evolved portion of my brain that I didn't want to destroy the buttons on the shirt she'd worn for her thesis defense.

I also wanted to savor this. Savor her.

"Amy?"

"Mmm?" I undid another button, ran a finger across the hollow of her throat.

"I love you," she said, her hands braced on my forearms, eyes wide. My hands faltered, and I lost my breath. "But . . . you're going to hate what I'm about to tell you."

I was still stuck on the I love you. My grin felt a little out of control. "What . . . ? Whatever you have to say, I'm sure I won't hate it."

She winced, turning to look at the clock on the wall. It was the first time it occurred to me to take a look around her apartment. I stepped back in surprise; her place looked nothing like I expected.

Everything about Karma had always been impeccable, stylish, current. But her apartment could not be farther from that description. The living room was tidy, but full of worn furniture and things that didn't look like anything she would own. Everything was brown and tan; the couches looked comfortable but like they were made out of the same material as a stuffed animal. A small collection of wooden owls was clustered on a shelf near a tiny television and, in the kitchen, the clock that she'd glanced at had a big smiling bumblebee on the face with the words "Bee Happy!" in garish bubble letters.

"This . . . is not what I expected."

Karma followed my attention around the apartment and then let a loud laugh burst free. It was the same laugh she used to let out before she would verbally eviscerate me. "What would you have expected, Ms. Raudenfeld?"

I shrugged, not wanting to insult her but feeling sincerely curious about this disconnect. "I just expected your place to look a little more like you."

"What, you don't like my owls?" she asked, grinning.

"I do, yes, they just—" I started, running a nervous hand into my hair.

"And these couches?" she interrupted. "Don't you think we could have fun on them?"

"Baby, we could have fun on any surface in this place, I'm just saying I expected your place to be less . . ."

Fuck. Why was I still talking? I looked over at her and she had a hand over her mouth, laughing silently.

"Calm down," she said. "This was my mom's apartment. I love it, but you're right. None of this stuff is mine. When I was in school it just didn't make sense for me to sell it, or to get new things."

I took another curious glance around. "You could buy yourself hundred-dollar panties but you didn't want a new couch?"

"Don't be such a snob. I didn't need a new couch. And I frequently needed new panties," she said quietly, meaningfully.

"Hell yes you did."

With this perfect reminder, I stepped close to her, resuming my gentle attack on her line of buttons. Pushing her shirt over her shoulders and down her arms, I stared at where she stood in front of me, in only a red lace bra and matching underwear. They were tiny.

"Tell me what you want," I said, feeling a little desperate as I pushed her hair behind her shoulder so I could suck on her neck, her jaw, her ear. "My mouth? My hands? Christ, I'm doing it all tonight but where does one start? I haven't seen you in months and feel like I'm losing my mind."

I reached for her arm, urging her closer. "Baby, put your hands on me."

She ran her hands up my neck and cupped my face. I could feel her shaking. "Amy."

Only when she said my name like this—like she was shy and maybe even anxious—did I remember she said she had something to tell me other than I love you. Something I wouldn't like.

"What is it?"

Her eyes were enormous, searching mine and full of apology. "I just finished my defense, and—"

"Oh, shit. I'm such an ass. I should take you to dinner or—"

"—and I promised Shane and Zita that we would go out—"

"—maybe we could get some dinner after I make you come—" I barreled on.

"—for drinks after my presentation—"

"I just need to hear you come once and then we can go. Just give me . . ." I stopped, finally letting her words settle in. "Wait, what? You're going out with Shane and Zita? Tonight?"

She nodded, eyes tight. "I didn't know you'd be here. I can't tell you how much I want to call and cancel. But the thing is, I can't. Not after how good they've been to me the last few months . . . when you and I were . . ."

I groaned, pressing the heel of my hands to my eyes. "Why didn't you tell me this before I got you naked? Holy shit, how am I supposed to let you go now? I'm going to be wet for hours."

"I tried to tell you." To her credit, she looked as frustrated as I felt.

"Do we have time to . . ." I shook my head, looking around as if the answer were buried somewhere in this ancient furniture. "I could probably get us both off in, like, two minutes."

She laughed. "I'm not sure that's something to brag about."

The hell it wasn't.

Her small gasp of surprise was stolen by my lips as I kissed her, tongue and teeth and not even caring if we only had a few minutes. I could do a few minutes.

I slid my hand over the racing pulse in her throat, between her breasts and lower, down the front of her stomach. I moved lower still, finding that familiar, favorite place where she was warm and slick, and the roof could fall in and I wouldn't even notice because, God, nothing existed but her and her little sounds and quiet whispers to keep going, keep going.

"Amy," she whispered. "Please."

I reached down for my own pants, and had just started to speak—

And was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

A familiar voice floated into her entryway. "We're here, Miss Serious Business Graduate, and we're ready for the drinking!"

"This is a joke. Tell me this is a joke," I said, glaring at her.

She shook her head, biting back a smile.

"I am in no mood to share right now. You have got to be fucking kidding me."

"I forget how much I love seeing you on an angry tear."

She walked to the door in her fucking underwear, and opened it a crack before turning and sprinting into her bedroom, leaving me to greet the intruders.

What in the actual fuck.

"I'll be out in a few!" Karma yelled over her shoulder, her nearly bare ass disappearing into a bedroom down the hall.

Shane whistled loudly, stepping over the threshold, and then stopped, and broke into laughter when she saw me.

"Wow, I didn't expect you to answer the door in your underwear, Karma." Zita walked in with her hands over her eyes, reaching out blindly. She grabbed a handful of my half-unbuttoned shirt and shrieked when she uncovered her eyes and saw that it was me she was holding on to. "Ms. Raudenfeld!"

"Hello, ladies," I said, voice flat. I straightened my shirt, pulled my clothes back into place.

"Oh boy, did we interrupt something?" Shane asked, eyes wide and teasing.

"Yes, in fact. We were . . . becoming reacquainted."

Karma called out from one of the bedrooms down the hall to help ourselves to the champagne in the fridge.

"I didn't realize it was to be a girls' night out," I said, when the silence felt like it had dragged on forever.

Zita stepped back, her eyes seeming to struggle to stay above my shoulders, and explained, "I don't think any of us expected you to be here and . . . want a night in."

I most definitely wanted a night in. In every part of Karma

Shane studied me for a minute and then smiled. "I'll admit I was pretty sure Amy would be here."

I couldn't help but mirror her grin. He had, after all, called me to urge me to go to Karma's presentation. He was obviously on my side.

Even if he had interrupted my attempt to fuck Chloe for the first time in forever.

I turned, moving into the kitchen to wash my hands. Shane followed, and behind me I heard him open the bottle of champagne, the squeak and pop and then the quiet fizz reminding me how much I'd rather be opening that bottle over Karma's nak*e body, and licking the foamy bubbles from her skin.

Shane continued, "But I think we should all go out to celebrate, and she can have as much of her as she wants." He poured four flutes of champagne and then handed one to me. "You'll just have to wait until later to . . . reacquaint."

Karma emerged from her room in black skinny jeans, strappy black heels, and a shimmering blue tank top that made her skin look golden.

No way in hell would I be able to keep my hands off her if she wore that out.

"Karma," I started, walking over to her and setting my champagne down on the kitchen counter with a shaking hand. I scowled at her hair, tied back in a sleek low ponytail.

Her eyes sparkled with amusement and she stretched to reach my ear so only I could hear. "You can take it down later."

"You should count on it."

"Do you want to grab it? Pull it?" she asked, kissing the shell of my ear. I nodded, eyes closing. "Or do you want to feel my hair down and loose on your stomach while my mouth works your cunt?"

I reached for my champagne with a shaky hand, downed it. "Let's go with yes."

Need coiled low in my stomach and I was torn between wanting to smash something and wanting to drag her back into her bedroom and peel those jeans down her legs. Absolutely no part of me felt like spending an evening drinking wine and eating cheese and listening to girl talk. I wasn't sure I'd be able to keep it together.

As if reading my mind, she whispered, "It'll just make it better when we get home."

"I doubt that is even possible."

Her fingers lightly scratched over my chest. "I've missed that surly face."

Ignoring her, I asked, "How about you come to my place later? Go out with the girls, enjoy this night. I'll be there when you're ready."

She stretched and slid a slow, warm kiss across my mouth. "What happened to not letting me out of your sight until Christmas?"

I'd expected a dance club, maybe something fancy with twenty-dollar drinks and miles of twenty-something coeds in tiny black dresses. What I hadn't expected was a low-key bar in the suburbs, with darts and what Shane called "the best sampling of beer in Illinois."

As long as they could make me a vodka gimlet and I could be in constant physical contact with Karma, the night might not be too much of a disaster. I followed the girls inside, shooting daggers at every leering douchebag in the place as we made our way up to the bar. Shane plopped himself down on a worn leather stool, shouting something to the bartender about the usual for the ladies and something pink for the pretty girl.

On second thought, this was going to be a long night.

Zita—clearly still a bit unnerved by my company—sat on the other side of Karma, and made her recount every last detail about her defense. Karma told her about Clarence Cheng, about how I'd barged in there and been an asshole, how she'd presented both projects, and even been offered a job.

"Two jobs," I clarified, staring her down so she knew I was thinking she'd better damn well fucking take the job at RMG.

She rolled her eyes but none of us could miss her proud smile. With their beers and my pink Cosmo raised in the air, we toasted Karma on a job well done.

Beside me she downed her beer and then wiggled off her seat. "Who's up for some darts?"

Zita raised her hand and jumped a little. After a single beer, she seemed tipsy and loose enough to not act like we were still in the office. I slid my gaze down the length of Karma's body. I rather liked the idea of watching her stretching and moving to play darts in that tight little number.

"You coming?" she asked, leaning down and pressing her breasts into my forearm.

Fucking tease.

"Hoping to, very soon." I let my eyes linger on her mouth before dropping to her chest. Beneath the thin fabric of her top, her nipples pebbled.

Her laugh brought my attention back to her red lips and she pushed them together in a playful pout. "Is Amy a little keyed up?"

"Amy is a lot keyed up," I said, pulling her between my legs and kissing the curve of her ear. I wanted to be patient and let her enjoy this night, but patience had never really been my strong suit. "Amy wants Karma naked and touching her cunt."

With a giggle, she danced away and to the back of the bar, her arm linked with Zita's.

Shane put his hand on my shoulder, glancing quickly behind us to make sure Karma was out of earshot. "You did good."

I was uncomfortable discussing personal issues with all but a few people in my life, and this most personal of all conversations was the last thing I wanted to have with a virtual stranger. Still, Shane had taken the time to track me down for Karma's sake. That definitely took balls.

"Thank you for the call," I said. "But I do want you to know I would have gone to her anyway. I couldn't stay away anymore."

Shane took a sip of his beer. "I figured if you were anything like her, you were about to head in for another round. I called because I wanted you to have that confidence you needed to go in and just be your best bitch self."

"I wasn't too much of a bitch." I frowned, considering. "I don't think."

"I'm sure," Shane drawled. "You're the portrait of compromise."

Ignoring this, I lifted my fruity girl drink and drained it.

"She's so happy tonight," Shane murmured, almost to himself.

"She's thin." I glanced at where she stood, poised and ready to throw a dart. She did seem happy, and for that I was thrilled, but the difference in her body was also hard for me to ignore. "Too thin."

Nodding, Shane said, "She exercised too much, worked too much." Her eyes searched mine for a beat before she added, "It wasn't good, Amy. She was a wreck."

"So was I."

He acknowledged this with a teasing smile. The sadness was in the past, after all. "So if you're going to keep her in bed for the next few days, just make sure you give her breaks to eat."

I nodded, moving my eyes to the back of the room, where my girl spun a couple of times, took aim, and then barely hit the dartboard. She and Zita broke into laughter, pausing only to say something that then made them both laugh harder.

And while she played and danced to the Rolling Stones, I felt the weight of my love for her settle into a heavy warmth in my stomach. Two months apart was nothing in the grand scheme of what we had ahead of us, but in our shared history it felt enormous. I wanted to dwarf it with time spent together.

I needed to get back, get closer. I waved to the bartender, mouthing, "Check," when she looked at me.

Shane stopped me with a warning hand on my arm. "Don't fuck it up. She's independent, and she's been doing it on her own for so long she'll never be the girl to tell you how much she needs you. But she'll show you how much she wants this. Karma is about action, not words. I've known her since we were twelve, and you're it for her."

Two smooth arms slipped around my waist from behind, and Chloe pressed a kiss between my shoulder blades. "What are we talking about over here?"

"Football," Shane said just as I answered, "Politics."

I felt her laugh and she slid under my arm, wrapping herself around me. "So you were talking about me."

"Yes," we both answered.

"And what a mess I was and how happy I look tonight, and how Amy better not fuck it up this time."

Shane glanced at me, punting that one in my direction as he lifted his beer, raised it in a silent toast, and then left us alone at the end of the bar.

Karma turned her brown eyes on me. "Did he tell you all of my secrets?"

"Hardly." I set my drink down and wrapped my arm around her. "Can we go now? I've been away from you for too long and I'm reaching the limit on how much sharing I'm willing to tolerate. I want you alone."

I felt her laugh as a small shaking of her body in my arm, and then the quiet sound made it to my ears. "You're so demanding."

"I'm just telling you what I want."

"Fine then. Be specific. What do you really want?"

"I want you on your knees on my bed. I want you sweaty and begging. I want you wet enough to drink from."

"Shit," she whispered, her voice strung tight. "I'm already there."

"Then damn, Miss Ashcroft. Get the fuck in my car."

 **I'm back ;). Please favorite, follow and review!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Amy's POV**

With my hands on the steering wheel, and her hands everywhere else—my thighs, my neck, my chest—I wasn't even sure we would make it home safely.

Especially not once she lifted my right arm so she could duck down and unzip my pants, her magic fingers teasing my clit. I'd wanted to get her home, but fuck, this would do just as well.

"Oh God, you're so wet for me," she whispered and I moaned in agreement.

"Holy fuck," I mumbled, moving into the slow lane of traffic.

It was so perfect, she read me like she always did, knowing when not to stop, when to touch me faster or slower, rougher or gentler .Too soon, I was gripping the steering wheel, panting and begging, and, finally, cursing loudly as I came.

I have no idea how I managed to steer the car onto my street, or pull it into my driveway, but with shaky hands, somehow I got us there. She kissed my cheek, and then rested her head against my shoulder and the car grew completely silent. It wasn't exactly how I imagined being with her again for the first time, but the way it was so hurried and spontaneous . . . that felt like us, too

"What the hell?" she asked, looking out the window. Her surprised tone burst through my sex haze. "Is this your house? Why are we here?"

"You wanted to go to your place?"

Shrugging, she said, "I just assumed we would. I don't have any of my things here."

"I don't have anything at your place, either."

"But I have spare toothbrushes. Do you have spare toothbrushes?"

What the f**k is she talking about?

"You can use mine. What the fuck?"

Sighing, she opened her door and mumbled, "So considered"

"To be clear," I said, getting out of the car and following her up the walkway, "I brought you here because this is where I was going to bring you after San Diego. I was going to tie you to my headboard and spank the fuck out of you. And I intend that again, after everything you put me through."

Karma stopped where she stood on my porch, her back to me for several long, confusing seconds before she turned to stare at me. "What did you just say?"

"Did I stutter?" I asked, and when she just continued to stare, I explained, "Yes, we were apart because I was a jerk. But so were you."

Her eyes narrowed and grew dark. I was half scared, and half thrilled as fuck that she was about to blow up at me. She backed me to my front door, her fist curling tight around my shirt before she yanked down, pulling me so our faces were nearly even. Her dark hazel eyes were wild and wide. "Give me your keys."

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled them out, depositing them in her waiting palm without question.

I watched as she flipped through them and actually found the right key on the first guess. "It's the top lock and the—"

She cut me off with a fingertip to my lips. "Shh. No talking."

I tried to puzzle out what was happening. Obviously she hadn't expected me to tease her about leaving me the way she did. Maybe she suspected we'd left all of that discussion in the conference room where we reunited. And I suppose in many ways we had. I didn't need her to apologize, and I didn't feel like I needed to apologize anymore. But our separation had been a shitty few months, so it didn't feel like the conversation about it was entirely over. Besides, spanking her seemed like the most appropriate way to work it all out of our systems.

Her hand didn't fumble behind me as she slipped the key into the lock. I heard the familiar squeak and click, then she pushed the door open and backed me over the threshold.

"Straight back to my living room," I offered. "Or down the hall to my bed."

I could sense her steering me to the living room, her eyes moving between my face, and the house behind her. It was, after all, the first time she was seeing my home.

"It's nice," she whispered, seeming to decide what she was doing with me as she pulled me up short. "It's so clean. It's so . . . you."

"Thank you," I said, laughing. "I think."

As if remembering that she was punishing me for something, she threw me a stern look. "Stay here."

She left and although I was tempted to see what she was up to, I followed her instruction. After only a few seconds she returned with one of my high-backed dining room chairs. Once she had it situated behind me, she pressed on my shoulders to urge me to sit down.

Turning, she walked over to my sound system, picked up the remote, and scanned the buttons.

"First turn on the—"

"Shh." Without turning, Karma held up a single hand to quiet me.

I closed my mouth, jaw tense. She was stretching my patience a little. If she hadn't indicated that I was supposed to stay seated, and I didn't suspect she wanted to play, I would have had her flat on her stomach by then and already yanked her ass in the air for a spanking.

After only a few moments, a smooth, pulsing rhythm slid into the room with a woman's husky voice layered on top. Karma hesitated at the stereo, shoulders moving with her deep, nervous breaths.

"Baby, come here," I whispered, hoping she heard me over the music.

She turned, returning to me and standing so close that her thighs pressed against my knees. My face was at her chest level, and I couldn't help but lean forward, kiss her breast through her shirt. But her hands came up and pushed my shoulders back so that I was again sitting up straight.

She followed my body, moving to straddle my lap. With both hands, she reached forward and toyed with the bottoms of my shirt.

"What you said outside . . . ," she whispered. "Maybe we do need to talk some more."

"Okay."

"But if you don't want to do it now, we can go to your room and you can do everything you want to me." She lifted her gaze to my face, dark hazel eyes searching. "We can talk later."

"I'll talk about anything you want." I swallowed, and smiled up at her. "Then I'll take you to my bed and do everything I want."

I could hardly catch my breath. I reached up to undo the top button of my shirt, but she caught my hand and pulled it down, her eyebrow raised in silent question.

"Tell me you love me," she whispered.

My heart was racing and my blood seemed to pound through my veins. "I love you. Wildly. I'm . . ." I'd imagined this a thousand different times, but this moment felt way too loaded and my words came out in a breathless rush. Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I murmured, "I'm wildly in love with you."

"But you were mad at me when I left."

My stomach tightened. Was this going to turn into a fight? And would that be a good or a bad thing?

Karma leaned forward, kissed my chin, my lips, my cheek. She slid her mouth to my ear.

And then I felt a tug around my wrists; she had bound my hands behind the chair with a bandana. "It's okay," she said. "Don't worry. I just want to talk about it."

She wanted to talk about it, wanted to feel comfortable hearing how it had affected me, how I'd been angry. But she needed me tied up first? I smiled, turning to catch her lips in a kiss.

"Yes, I was mad at you. I was mostly heartbroken, but I was angry, too."

"Tell me why you were mad." Her mouth moved farther away from mine, to my neck, and she sucked along my skin while I considered how to answer.

It felt like our breakup had happened a million years ago, but also like it happened only earlier today. The fact that she was here, straddling my lap and kissing me, reminded me that this was in many ways ancient history. But the way my chest twisted at the memory of her leaving me . . . it felt too close.

"You never let me explain, or apologize. I called. I went over to your place. I would have done anything to work it out."

She didn't say anything, didn't try to defend herself. Instead, she stood and stepped away, bending to unfasten the strap of her heels. She stepped out of them, returning to me, running her fingers into my hair and pulling my face against her chest.

"We knew it wasn't going to be easy to transition from hate-f**king to being in love," I said into the soft fabric of her top. "And the first time I messed up you left me."

She slipped the top button free on her jeans, slowly pulled the zipper down, and then peeled them off her legs. In a few more seconds, her shirt joined her jeans on the floor. She stood before me, completely naked but for her bra and tiny red lace panties. In the shadowed room, her skin looked like silk.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"I'd only realized that I loved you, that maybe I had been in love with you for a while, and then suddenly you were gone." I looked up at her, hoping I hadn't gone too far.

She slid over my lap, and I wanted more than anything to have my hands free to run up her strong thighs.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. I blinked up in surprise. "I wouldn't change it, because I did what I needed to do at the time. But I know it hurt you, and I know it wasn't fair to just shut you out."

I nodded, tilting my chin so she would come closer and kiss me. Her mouth pressed to mine, soft and wet, and a tiny moan escaped her lips.

"Thank you for coming this morning," she said against me.

"Would you have come to me?" I asked.

"Yes."

"When?"

"Tomorrow morning. After I'd finished my presentation. I'd decided that about a week ago."

I groaned, leaning forward to kiss her. She arched away so instead I kissed her chin, and down her throat.

"Did you see anyone else while we were apart?"

I stopped and gaped up at her. "What—is that a serious question? No."

A smile spread across her face. "I just needed to hear it."

"If you let someone else touch you, Karma, I swear to God, I—"

"Settle down, Tigress." She pressed two fingertips to my mouth. "I didn't."

I closed my eyes, kissing her fingers and nodding. The offending image evaporated slowly from my mind, but my heart didn't seem to slow even a touch.

I felt her breath on my neck just a beat before she asked, "Did you think about me?"

"Several times every minute."

"Did you ever think about fucking me?"

All words slipped from my head. Every word in the English language disappeared and I shifted under her, wanting her so intensely in this vulnerable and open and quiet moment that I feared I would lose it the second she freed me from my pants.

"Not at first," I managed, finally. "But after a few weeks, I tried."

"Tried to touch yourself and think of me? Like your hand could stand in for me?"

I watched her expression grow from curious to predatory before answering, "Yeah."

"Did you come?"

"Jesus, Karma." How was it so hot to be grilled by her like this?

She didn't blink or fidget at all while waiting for me to answer. She simply stared me down. "Tell me."

I couldn't fight my smile. Always such a ballbuster. "A couple of times. It wasn't very pleasurable because you would come into my head and it was just as frustrating as it was relieving."

"For me, too," she said. "I missed you so much it hurt. At work I missed you. At home, in my bed, I could barely stand it. The only time I could clear you from my head was when I was—"

Running," I whispered. "I can tell. You lost too much weight."

Her eyebrow lifted. "So did you."

"I also drank too much," I admitted, reminding her that this wasn't a contest. She didn't need to prove she'd fared better. I was actually pretty sure she had. "The first month we were apart is still kind of a blur."

"Zita told me how you looked. She told me I wasn't being fair by staying away from you."

My eyebrows inched up in surprise. Really? Zita had said that? "You did what you needed to do."

Leaning back, she looked down the length of my torso, and then up to my eyes. I was curious to see that she looked a little surprised. Maybe even giddy. "You let me tie you up."

I stared up at her. "Of course I did."

"I just wasn't sure you'd let me. I thought I'd tricked you—I thought you might say no."

"Karma, you've owned me since the first second I saw you. I'd have let you tie me up back in the conference room if you'd asked."

A tiny smile pulled at one side of her mouth. "I wouldn't have let you if you'd asked."

"Good." I leaned in for a kiss. "You're smarter than I am."

She stood, reaching behind her to unfasten her bra. It slid down her arms and fluttered to the floor. "I think we've both always known that's true."

The way I wanted her was a kind of steady, heavy ache. I was so wet I could feel my every heartbeat through my cunt, but I also felt like my vision was oversaturated with color: the red of her panties and lips, the hazel of her eyes, the creamy ivory of her skin. My body was screaming for hers to take me inside, but my brain couldn't stop drinking in each detail. "Let me feel you."

She returned to me, lifting her chest to my mouth. I leaned forward, taking a nipple between my lips, flicking it with my tongue. Without warning, she stood and stepped away, turning her back to me and looking over her shoulder with a mischievous smile on her face.

"What are you doing, little devil?" I panted.

Her thumbs hooked into the waist of her lacy panties and she wiggled her hips as she began to lower them.

No. No way in hell.

"Don't you fucking dare Ashcroft," I said, yanking my hands free from her flimsy knot and standing to tower over her like a storm cloud forming in my own living room. "Go down the hall and get on my bed. If you even think of taking off your panties, I will take care of myself and you'll lie there and watch me come."

Her eyes widened into enormous pools of black in the dark room, and without another word she turned and sprinted down the hall to my bedroom.

And with that memory in mind, my day was officially shot. That night had been the single most intimate night of my life, and had launched our relationship from Giving It a Try into Fully Committed. I would never get over the way she turned her vulnerability into quiet command, or the way she let me turn the tables in my bedroom, tie her to my bed and nibble at every inch of her body.

I groaned as I realized I had no idea when we would ever have such a lazy night together again, and picked up my phone.

Lunch? I texted.

Can't, Karma replied. Meeting with Douglas from noon to three. Shoot me.

I looked at the clock. It was 11:36. I slid my phone back on my desk and returned to the article I was working on for the Journal. I was useless and I knew it.

After about two minutes, I picked up my phone, texting her again, this time using our secret code. Bat signal.

She replied immediately: On my way.

The outer door opened and closed, bringing the sound of Karma's heels tapping across the floor of the office just outside mine. It had once been Karma's, but when she'd returned to Raudenfeld Media Group after finishing her MBA, she moved to an office of her own in the east wing. End result: the outer office now remained empty. I'd attempted working with a few different assistants, but they never really worked out. Andrea cried all the time. Jesse tapped her pen on her desk and the effect was much like a woodpecker going at a tree. Bruce couldn't type.

Apparently Karma was more of a saint for "putting up with me" than I'd given her credit for.

My door opened and she stepped through, brows drawn together. We used the bat signal primarily to notify each other of work crises, and for a moment I wondered whether I was overreacting.

"What happened?" she asked, stopping about a foot away from me, her arms crossed over her chest. I could see she was preparing for a professional battle on my behalf, but I wanted her to fight a far more personal one.

"Nothing work related," I said, rubbing my jaw. "I . . ."

I drifted off, staring at each part of her face in turn: her eyes as they narrowed in concentration, the full lips she'd pulled together in concern, her smooth skin. And, of course, I let my eyes drop to her breasts because she'd pushed them together and . . . well, fuck.

"Are you looking at my chest?"

"Yes."

"You sent me the bat signal so you could look at my tits?"

"Settle down, firecracker. I sent you the bat signal because I miss you."

Her arms fell to her sides and seemed to stutter, fingers fumbling to straighten the hem of her sweater. "How can you miss me? I stayed over last night."

"I know." I knew this side of her. Forever knee-jerking back to self-preservation.

"And we had all weekend together."

"Yeah, you and me—and Shane and Duke," I reminded her. "And Theo and Lauren. Not alone. Not nearly as much as we'd anticipated."

Karma turned her head and looked out the window. For the first time in weeks we had a perfect, sunny day, and I wanted to take her outside and just . . . sit.

"I feel like I miss you all the time lately," she whispered.

The knot in my chest unwound a bit. "Do you?"

Nodding, she turned back to me. "Your travel schedule sucks right now." She leaned forward, cocked an eyebrow. "And you didn't kiss me goodbye this morning."

"I did, in fact," I said, smiling. "You were still sleeping."

"Doesn't count."

"Are you looking for a fight, Miss Ashcroft?"

She shrugged, struggling to repress a smile as she studied me carefully.

"We could skip the fight and you could just go down on me ten minutes or so."

Without another beat passing, she stepped close and slid her arms around me, stretching to press her face into my neck. "I love you," she whispered. "And I love that you sent the bat signal just because you missed me."

I was struck silent, for probably too long, and I finally managed to croak out an "I love you, too."

It wasn't that Karma wasn't expressive; she was. When we were alone, she was—physically—the most expressive woman I'd ever known. But whereas I told her often how I felt, I could count on two hands the number of times she'd actually said the words "I love you." I didn't need her to say it more, but each time she had, it affected me more profoundly than I'd anticipated.

"Seriously, though," I whispered, struggling to regain my composure. "Maybe I just need a quickie over the desk."

She laughed, shaking her head against my neck and reaching between us to palm my cunt. I knew this game, and it was entirely possible she was going to do something mildly threatening that would thrill me as much as it terrified me. But instead of looking at me with danger in her eyes, she turned her head to suck on my neck, whispering, "I can't smell like sex in this meeting with Douglas."

"You think you don't always smell like sex?"

"I don't always smell like you," she clarified, before licking my neck.

"The hell you don't."

It had been so long since we'd fooled around in the office, and I was so keen to feel her; I wanted to tear my pants down my legs and shove her skirt over her hips, then ruin the neat stacks of paper on my desk by throwing her down on it.

Mercifully, she kissed from my jaw down my neck and slid along my body to the floor, pulling her skirt up slightly, demurely, so she could kneel in front of me.

But no . . . once on the floor, she kept pulling her skirt up until it bunched at her hips. With one hand, she reached between her legs; with the other, she made quick work on my zipper. I closed my eyes, needing to calm my mind for a beat as she freed me quickly from my panties, and without hesitation put her mouth in my pussy. I'd been nearly wet, and with her touch I became even more.

I felt her breath come out in little bursts, could hear the sound of her fingers moving over herself as she kneeled on the floor.

"Are you touching yourself?"

Her head shifted slightly as she nodded.

"Were you already wet for me?"

She stilled for a beat, and then reached her hand up over her head. Bending down, I sucked two of her fingers into my mouth.

Fuck.

It obliterated me to see so clearly how much she wanted this. I knew from experience how she tasted before she was truly ready for me—for example, when I came over late and surprised her in her sleep with my mouth on her—and I knew how differently she tasted after we'd teased each other for what felt like an eternity. This, on her fingers, was full arousal, and it sent my head spinning. How long had she been thinking of this? All day? Since I left this morning? But she didn't let me linger over it too long, returning her hand quickly to the unseen space between her legs.

I watched her head move, her lips tasting every inch of me, and tried to let it calm me. But even when her mouth was on me like this or I was buried inside her, I'd always want more. It was impossible to have her every way at once, but it never stopped me from imagining it: a whirlwind of positions and sounds and my hands in her hair and on her hips, my fingers in her mouth and yet also between her legs and pulling on the back of her thighs.

When I ran my hands into her hair she knew I wanted faster, and when my hips started to jerk she knew not to tease, not even a little. At least, not since she had a meeting any minute.

In a sudden flash I remembered that my office was unlocked; Karma had come in here thinking we'd discuss work. The outer office was closed but not locked, either.

"Oh, shit," I groaned, because somehow the idea that we could be caught made it so much hotter. "Karma—" Without more warning, my orgasm barreled down my spine, sharp and warm, and so intense it made my legs shake and my hand curl tightly in her hair. She arched against the pull, her arm jerking as she touched herself, causing the sounds of her own pleasure to come out muffled around me.

Looking down, I realized she was watching my reaction . . . of course she was. Her eyes were wide, but somehow soft, and she looked fascinated. I'm sure her expression was exactly how mine was every time I'd seen her come apart under my touch. After a pause to catch my breath, I pulled out from her mouth and kneeled on the floor facing her, reaching to cup one of my hands over the one she had between her legs. She shifted a little, letting my fingers take over. I slid two of them inside, pushing and deep, and she almost toppled backward, her body clamping down around me. Steadying her with my other hand on her hip, I pressed a kiss to her lips, humming at the way they were a little red, a little swollen.

"I'm really close," she said, slipping her free hand around my neck for support.

"I like how you think you need to tell me that."

I kept waiting for my touch to seem overly familiar, or my technique to grow tired, but each time she felt the sweep and press of my thumb against her clit it seemed more intense than the time before.

"Another," she managed in a tight voice. "Please, I want . . ."

She never finished her thought. She didn't need to. I pumped three fingers into her and watched as her head fell back, her lips parted, and the quiet, husky sound of her trying-to-be-quiet orgasm raced through her.

For a few seconds, she let me hold her up, breathe in the scent of her hair, and pretend that we were somewhere else, maybe my living room or her bedroom, certainly not on the floor of my unlocked office.

Seeming to remember this at the same time I did, Karma pulled up her panties and slid her skirt back down her thighs before letting me take her hand to help her stand. As usual, I was struck by the quiet all around us, and wondered if we were ever as controlled and sneaky as we thought we were.

She looked around, a little dazed, and then tossed me a lazy grin. "This will make it even harder to stay awake in my meeting."

"Not sorry," I murmured, bending down to kiss her neck.

When I straightened, she turned and walked into my washroom, pushing the sleeves of her sweater up her forearms so she could clean her hands. I stepped close, pressing my front to her back, and moved my hands under the water with hers. Soap slid between our fingers and she leaned her head back against my chest. I wanted to spend an hour washing her scent from our fingers just so I could stand this close.

"Are we staying at your place tonight?" I asked. It was always a hard choice. My bed was better for play, but her kitchen was better stocked.

She turned off the water and reached to dry her hands on my towel. "Your place. I have to do laundry."

"Don't ever let me hear you say romance is dead." I took my turn with the towel and then bent to kiss her. She kept her mouth closed, eyes open, and I pulled back a little.

"Amy?"

"Mmm?"

"I do, you know."

"You do what?"

"Love you. Maybe I don't tell you enough. Maybe that's why you used the bat signal."

I smiled, my heart squeezing tightly beneath my ribs. "I know you do. And that isn't why I texted. I texted because I don't get enough of your exclusive attention lately and I'm a greedy bitch. Hasn't my mother warned you that I've never been good at sharing?"

"After we move to New York, things will quiet down and we'll have more time."

"In New York? Doubtful," I said. "And even if things do settle down, wouldn't it be nice to get away for a little bit before all that anyway?"

"When?" she asked, and looked around as if her packed calendar permeated every surface.

"There won't ever be a perfect time. And when we move offices, it will be even crazier for a while."

Laughing, she shook her head. "Well, I can't think of a worse time. Maybe late summer?" With a quick kiss, she turned and grabbed her phone from my desk, eyes widening when she saw the time. "I have to go," she said, kissing me once more before leaving my office.

And the topic was dismissed.

But the word vacation stayed in my mind.


	19. Chapter 19

**Karma´s POV**

I'd had big plans for tonight: make dinner, eat dinner together, finally decide which apartment we were going to rent in New York, discuss what to keep from both her place and mine, figure out when in the hell we'd find time to pack it all in the first place.

Oh, and spend the remaining eight hours relearning every inch of my Beautiful Bitch's body. Twice.

But that itinerary was before she'd walked through the door of her house to find me cooking dinner in her kitchen. Before she'd tossed her jacket and keys to the couch and practically sprinted across the room. Before she pulled me back against her and sucked at the skin below my ear as if she hadn't tasted me in weeks.

Needless to say, the plan had been downsized dramatically.

One: dinner. Two: naked.

Even so, Amy seemed inclined to skip steps.

"We're never going to eat at this rate," I said, tilting my head back as she kissed along my neck. Her warm breath curled over my skin and the knife I'd been holding clattered to the cutting board.

"And?" she whispered, pressing her hips to my ass before turning me to face her.

The cabinets were hard against my back. Amy was harder against my front. She bent down, towering over me without the benefit of my shoes, and brushed her lips over my throat.

"And . . ." I mumbled. "Food is overrated."

She laughed softly, hands skimming my sides to rest at my hips. "Exactly. And God, it feels like I haven't touched you in weeks."

"This afternoon," I corrected, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. "It was this afternoon, you know—when I sucked you off at your desk?"

"Oh, yes. I seem to remember something like that. It's a little hazy, though. Perhaps you could refresh my memory . . . tongue, cunt . . ."

"Nice mouth, Raudenfeld. Does your mother know you're such a pig?"

She barked out a laugh. "If the way she looked at us after we fucked in the coatroom at my cousin's wedding in February is any indication, then yes."

"I hadn't seen you in two weeks!" I said, feeling my cheeks warm. "Don't look so smug, you ass"

"But I'm your ass," she said, and pressed a lingering kiss to my lips. "Don't pretend like you don't love it." I couldn't argue. Amy might have spent more time out of Chicago than in it lately, but she was all mine. She never left any doubt about that. "And speaking of asses"—she reached down and squeezed mine, hard—"the things I'm going to do to yours tonight . . ."

I started to reply—to argue or say something smart in return that would put me back in the verbal driver's seat—but I couldn't think of anything.

"Jesus. You've been stunned silent," she said, eyes wide in surprise. "If I'd known that's all it'd take to get a little peace and quiet, I'd have brought it up ages ago."

"I . . . um." I opened and closed my mouth a few times but nothing came out. This was new. When the oven timer cut through the air, I forced myself to pull away, still a little off balance.

I pulled the bread from the oven and drained the pasta, feeling Amy move up behind me again. She hooked her chin over my shoulder, wrapped her arms around my waist.

"You smell so good," she said. Her mouth went back to work on my neck, as her hands began a slow descent down to the hem of my skirt. I was more than a little tempted to let her finish.

Instead, I nodded to the cutting board. "Can you finish the salad for me, please?"

She groaned and loosened her shirt, grunting something unintelligible as she began working at the opposite counter.

Ribbons of garlic-scented steam curled up from the bowl as I tossed the pasta and sauce together, trying to clear my head. As usual, it was impossible when she was nearby. There was just something about Amy Raudenfeld that seemed to suck all the air out of a room.

I'd been blindsided by how hard I'd fallen for her, and lately I missed her so much when she was gone. Sometimes I'd talk to my empty bedroom. "How was your day?" I'd ask. "My new assistant is hilarious," I'd say. Or: "Has my apartment always been this quiet?"

Other days, when I'd worn her shirt to sleep so many times it had lost her smell, I'd go over to her place. I'd sit in the huge chair that looked out over the lake, and wonder what she was doing. Wonder if it was possible for her to miss me even a fraction as much as I missed her. Jesus. I never used to understand women who acted like this when their boyfriends or girlfriends traveled. I used to just assume it was a good opportunity for a full night's sleep and some downtime.

Somehow, Amy had managed to work her way into every part of my life. She was still the same stubborn, driven woman she'd always been, and I loved that she hadn't changed who she was just because we were together. She treated me as an equal, and even though I knew she loved me more than anything, she never cut me any slack. For that I loved her even more.

I carried our plates to the table and glanced back over my shoulder. Amy was still grumbling to herself as she sliced a tomato.

"Are you still complaining?" I asked.

"Of course." She brought the salad over, smacking my ass before pulling out my chair.

She poured us each a glass of wine before dropping into the seat across from me. Amy watched me take a sip, her eyes moving from mine, to my lips, and back up again. A sweet smile pulled at the corner of her mouth, but then she seemed to blink back into focus, remembering something. "I've been meaning to ask you, how's Zita?"

Zita Jones had graduated from the same MBA program that I had, but had since left RMG to work for another firm. She was one of my best friends, and Amy had offered her the Director of Finance position in the new branch but she'd turned her down, not wanting to leave her family and the life she had in Chicago. She didn't blame her, of course, but as the big day drew closer and we still hadn't found anyone, I knew she was beginning to worry.

I shrugged, remembering the conversation I'd had with her earlier that day. Zita's douchebag of a fiancé had been photographed kissing another woman, and it seemed Zita might really be seeing what the rest of us had suspected for years: Andy was a cheating dick.

"She's okay, I guess. Andy still claims he was set up. The other woman's name still pops up in the paper every week. You know Zita. She's not going to show the world how she feels, but I can tell she's completely shattered over this."

She hummed, considering. "Think she's finally done? No more taking him back?"

"Who knows? They've been together since she was twenty-one. If she hasn't left him by now then maybe she'll stay with him forever."

"Wish I'd gone with my gut and knocked him on his ass at the Smith House event last month. What a miserable sleaze."

"I've tried to talk her into coming to New York but . . . she's so stubborn."

"Stubborn? I can't possibly see why the two of you are friends," she deadpanned.

I threw a cherry tomato at her.

The rest of the meal was all talk about work, about getting the new office off the ground and all the pieces that still needed to be put into place before that could happen. We'd begun discussing whether his family would be going back to New York again before the new offices opened when I asked, "When did your dad get back in town?"

I waited a moment, but when Amy didn't answer, I looked up, surprised to see her pushing her food around her plate.

"Everything okay over there, Raudenfeld?"

A few seconds of silence passed before she said, "I miss you working for me."

I felt my eyes widen. "What?"

"I know. It doesn't make any sense to me, either. We were awful to each other, and it was an impossible situation." Holy crap, what an understatement. The fact that we managed to survive working in the same office together for ten months without bloodshed or some sort of womanslaughter stapler incident still surprised me. "But . . . ," she continued, looking up at me from across the table, "I saw you every day. It was predictable. Consistent. I pushed and you pushed back. It was the most fun I've ever had at a job. And I took it for granted."

I set my glass down and met her eyes, feeling an overwhelming surge of affection for this woman. "That . . . makes sense," I said, searching for the right words. "I don't think I appreciated what it meant to see you every day, either. Even if I did want to poison you on no less than twenty-seven separate occasions."

"Ditto," she replied with a smirk. "And sometimes I feel guilty for how many times I threw you out the window in my fantasies. But I most certainly plan on making it up to you." She picked up her glass, took a long drink.

"Do you now?"

"Yep. I have a list."

I raised an eyebrow in silent question.

"Well, first I'm going to peel off that skirt." She bent to glance under the table. "I'd hassle you for wearing that lacy stuff underneath just to torture me, but we both know I'm into that kind of thing."

I watched as she straightened and leaned back in her chair, hands clasped behind her head. The weight of her attention brought goose bumps to my skin. Anyone else would have been intimidated—I could still remember a time when I was—but right now all I felt was adrenaline, a thrill that shot through my chest and settled warm and heavy in my stomach.

"And that sweater," she began, eyes on my chest now. "I'd like to rip it open, hear the sound of those little buttons as they pop off and scatter across the floor."

I crossed my legs, swallowed. She followed the movement, a smile slowly lifting at the corners of her mouth.

"Then maybe I'd spread you out on this table." She leaned over, made a show of testing its sturdiness. "Put your legs over my shoulders, suck on you until you're just begging for my fingers."

I tried to seem unaffected, tried to break from her stare. I couldn't. I cleared my throat, my mouth suddenly dry. "You could have done that last night," I said, teasing her.

"No. Last night we were tired and I just wanted to feel you come. Tonight, I want to take my time, undress you, kiss every inch of that body—fuck you. Watch you fuck me."

Was it suddenly getting warm in here?

"Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?" I asked.

"Most definitely."

"And what makes you think I don't have a list of my own?" I stood, dessert forgotten as I rounded the table to stop in front of her. She smirked at me, pupils dark green and so wide that they were burning me.

I wanted to rip off my clothes and feel the heat of that stare on my skin, wake up in the morning exhausted and sore and with the memory of her fingertips still pressing into my body. How did she make me feel this way with just a look and a few dirty words?

Amy shifted in her chair and I stepped between her legs, reaching out to push the hair—that eternally freshly fucked hair—from her forehead. The soft locks slipped between my fingers and I tilted her head back, bringing her eyes to mine. I've missed you so much, I wanted to say. Stay. Don't go so far away. I love you.

The words stuck in my throat and nothing more than a "Hi" slipped out instead.

Amy tilted her head, smile widening as she looked up at me. "Hi." Warm hands gripped my hips, pulled me closer. Laughter curled around the single word and I knew she could read me like a book, saw every thought as clearly as if it were written across my forehead in ink. It's not that I wasn't comfortable saying I loved her, it's just that it was so new. I'd never said it to anyone before her, and sometimes it felt scary, like opening up my chest and handing her my heart.

Her hand moved up to rest on my breast, thumb brushing along the underside. "I can't help but wonder what's under this pretty little sweater," she said.

I sucked in a breath, felt my nipples harden beneath the thin cashmere. She slipped one button through the hole, and then another, until the cardigan fell open and her eyes moved over my barely-there bra. She hummed in appreciation. "This is new."

"And expensive. Don't ruin it," I warned.

She couldn't contain her smug smile. "I would never."

"You bought me a four-hundred-dollar slip and then used it to tie me to your bed, Amy."

She laughed, pushing the sweater from my shoulders, taking her time to unwrap me like a gift. Long fingers moved to the waist of my skirt and the soft sound of the zipper filled the room. She did as she'd promised, purposefully peeling the wool from my hips and down my legs to pool at my feet, leaving me in only my lace bra and rather skimpy panties.

The air conditioner switched on and a low whir carried through the apartment, a burst of cool air rushing along my exposed skin. Amy pulled me down onto her lap, my legs on either side of her hips. The rough fabric of her pants brushed against the backs of my bare thighs, my practically naked ass. I should have felt vulnerable like this—with me in so little and her fully dressed—but I relished it. It was so much like our first night together at her home, after my presentation, after we'd both admitted we didn't want to be without the other and she let me tie her up so I could have the nerve to hear how much I'd hurt her.

And then I realized this position was intentional. I suspected she was thinking about that exact night, too. Her eyes shone with such hunger, such adoration, that I couldn't help but feel a sense of power, like there wasn't anything this woman wouldn't do if I just asked.

I reached for the buttons of her shirt, wanting her naked and over me, behind me—everywhere. I wanted to taste her, scratch marks into her skin, and connect them with my fingers, my lips and my teeth. I wanted to stretch her out on the table and fuck her until any thought of either of us ever leaving this room was a distant memory.

Somewhere in the apartment, a phone rang. We froze, neither of us saying anything, both waiting, hoping it had been a fluke and that nothing but silence would follow. But the shrill ringtone—one I'd become all too familiar with—filled the air again. Work. The emergency ringtone. And not the regular emergency one—the emergency-emergency one. Amy swore, resting her forehead against my chest. My heart pounded beneath my ribs and my breaths felt too quick, too loud.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," she said when it continued to ring. "I have to—"

"I know." I stood, using the back of the chair to support my shaky legs.

Amy scrubbed her hands over her face before she stood and crossed the room, finding her phone where she'd slung her jacket over the back of the couch. "Yeah," she said, and then listened.

I bent for my sweater and slipped it over my shoulders, found my skirt and pulled it up my hips. I carried the dishes into the kitchen while she talked. I was trying to give her some sense of privacy but grew concerned as her voice continued to rise.

"What do you mean they can't find it?" she shouted. I leaned against the doorway and watched as she paced back and forth in front of the wide wall of windows. "This is happening tomorrow and someone's misplaced the fucking master file? Can't someone else handle this?" A pause ensued in which I swear I actually watched Amy's blood pressure rise. "Are you kidding?" Another pause. Amy closed her eyes tight and took a deep breath. "Fine. I'll be there in twenty."

When she ended the call, it took a moment for her to look at me.

"It's okay," I said.

"It's not."

She was right. It wasn't okay. It sucked. "Can't someone else handle it?"

"Who? I can't trust something this important to those incompetent assholes. The Timbk2 account launches tomorrow and the marketing team can't find the file with the financial specs—" She stopped and shook her head, reached for her jacket. "God, we need someone in New York who knows what the fuck they're doing. I'm so sorry, Karms."

Amy knew how much we needed tonight, but she also had a job to do. I knew this better than anyone.

"Go," I said, closing the distance between us. "I'll be right here when you're done." I handed her her keys and stood up on my toes to kiss her.

"In my bed?"

I nodded.

"Wear my shirt."

"Only your shirt."

"I love you."

I grinned. "I know. Now go save the world."


	20. Chapter 20

**Amy's POV**

You have got to be f**king kidding me.

I turned the key in the ignition and revved the engine hard enough for the RPMs to hit red. I wanted to peel out and tear down the street, leaving the sign of my frustration as black tire marks on the road.

I was tired. Fuck was I tired, and I hated to have to clean up other people's messes at work. I'd been working twelve-, fifteen-, hell, even eighteen-hour days for months, and the one night I was able to put aside time with Karma at home, I was called in.

I paused as the word seemed to bounce around inside of my skull: home.

Whether we were at my place or hers, out with friends, or in that tiny little shithole Chinese restaurant she liked so much, it felt like home to me. The strangest part was that the house that had cost me a fortune had never felt like home until she spent time there. Was her home also with me?

We hadn't even had time to pick where we would live in New York. We had identified the new location for RMG, made a map of where each of our offices would be, drawn up blueprints of the renovations and hired a designer . . . but Karma and I didn't have an apartment to go to.

Which was the greatest sign that old habits die hard, because in reality my relationship with her had completely altered my relationship to my job. Only a year ago I'd been committed to one thing: my career. Now, the thing that mattered most to me was Karma, and every time my career got in the way of being with her it burned me up inside. I don't even know specifically when that had happened, but I suspect the change had been effected long before I would have ever admitted it. Maybe it was the night Liam came to my parents' house for dinner. Or maybe it was the next day, when I fell on my knees in front of her and apologized the only way I knew how. Most likely it was even earlier than all of that, on the first night I kissed her roughly in the conference room, in my darkest, weakest moment. Thank God I'd been such an idiot.

I glanced down at the clock on my dashboard and the date, backlit in red, hit me like a fist to the chest: May 5. Exactly one year ago, I'd watched Karma walk off the plane from San Diego, her shoulders set in hurt and anger at how I'd essentially thrown her under the bus after she'd covered for me with a client. The next day she'd resigned; she'd left me. I blinked, trying to clear the memory from my mind. She came back, I reminded myself. We'd worked it out in the past eleven months, and despite all of my frustration with my work schedule, I'd never been happier. She was the only woman I'd ever want.

I thought back to my previous breakup, with Sabrina almost two years ago now. Our relationship started the way one climbs on an escalator: with a single step and then moving without effort along a single path. We started out friendly and easily slipped into physical intimacy. The situation worked perfectly for me because she provided companionship and sex, and she'd never asked for more than I offered. When we broke up, she admitted she knew I wouldn't give her more, and for a while the sex and quasi-intimacy had been enough. Until, for her, they weren't anymore.

After a long embrace and one final kiss, I'd let her go. I'd gone straight to my favorite restaurant for a quiet dinner alone, and then headed to bed early, where I slept the entire night without waking once. No drama. No heartbreak. It ended and I closed the door on that part of my life, completely ready to move on. Three months later, I was back in Chicago.

It was comical to compare that to the reaction I'd had to losing Karma. I'd essentially turned into a filthy hobo, not eating, not showering, and surviving entirely on scotch and self-pity. I remembered clutching to the tiny details Zita would share with me about Karma—how she was doing, how she looked—and trying to determine from these tidbits whether she missed me and could possibly be as miserable as I was.

The day Karma returned to RMG was, coincidentally, Zita's last day at the firm. Although we had made up, Karma had insisted that she sleep at her place and I sleep at mine so that we would actually get some rest. After a chaotic morning, I walked into the break room to find Karma snacking on a small pack of almonds, reading some marketing reports. Zita was heating up leftovers in the tiny microwave, having refused our entreaties to give her a big sendoff lunch. I came in to pour myself a cup of coffee, and the three of us stood together in loaded silence for what felt like fifteen minutes.

I'd finally broken it.

"Zita," I said, and my voice felt too loud in the silent room. Her eyes turned to me, wide and clear. "Thank you for coming to me that first day Karma was gone. Thank you for giving me whatever updates you could. For that, and other reasons, I'm sorry to see you go."

She shrugged, smoothing her bangs to the side and giving me a small smile. "I'm just glad to see you two together again. Things have been way too quiet around here. And by quiet I mean boring. And by boring I mean nobody screaming or calling each other a hateful shrew." She coughed and took an almost comically loud slurp from her drink.

Karma groaned. "No chance of that anymore, I assure you." She popped an almond into her mouth. "She may not be my boss anymore, but she's still most definitely a screamer."

Laughing, I stole a peek at her ass as she stood and bent down to pull a bottle of water out of the bottom shelf of the fridge.

"Still," I said, turning back to Zita. "I appreciate that you kept me up to date. I would have probably lost my mind otherwise."

Zita's eyes softened and, as she fidgeted, I could tell she was a little uncomfortable in the face of my rare display of emotion. "Like I said, I'm glad it worked out. These things are worth fighting for." She lifted her chin and gave Karma one last smile before leaving the room.

That giddiness I'd felt after Karma's return made it easy to ignore the whispers that followed us through the halls of Raudenfeld Media Group. I had my office and she had hers now, and we were each determined to prove to ourselves as much as anyone else that we could do this.

We'd lasted almost an hour apart.

"I missed you," she said, slipping into my office and closing the door behind her. "Do you think they'll give me my old office back?"

"No. Much as I like the idea, at this point it would be blatantly inappropriate."

"I was only half serious." She rolled her eyes and then paused, looking around. I could almost see each memory coming back to her: when she'd spread her legs across the desk from me, when she'd let me make her come with my fingers to distract her from her worries, and, I imagine, each time we'd sat together in this office, not saying everything we could have said so much sooner.

"I love you," I said. "I've loved you for a long time."

She blinked up and then moved close, stretching to kiss me. And then she pulled me into the bathroom and begged me to make love to her against the wall, at noon on a Monday.

As I pulled into the parking deck at the offices and turned into my spot, I remembered Zita's words. Shutting off the car, I stared at the concrete wall in front of me. These things are worth fighting for. Zita had taken her own advice home to Chicago's most deplorable womanizer. She'd looked out for me when she knew I was broken and lost without Karma. In contrast, I'd let Zita continue on with a man I knew was unfaithful, all because I felt it wasn't my place to interfere. Where would I be if Zita had done the same?

Contemplating what that said about me, I climbed from the car and into the main lobby. The night security guard waved, then went back to his newspaper as I headed to the elevators. The building was so empty I could hear every creak and click of the machine around me. Wheels whirred along cables and the car gave a quiet thud as it settled on the eighteenth floor.

I knew no one else was here. The team was scrambling to find the newest version of the file, and in their panic were probably scouring their local document files on their laptops. I doubted anyone had thought to come in and check the work server.

In the end I'd had to leave Karma for what amounted to twenty-three minutes of work, which effectively guaranteed my mood tomorrow would be thunderous. I hated having to do someone else's job. The contract had been mislabeled and—exactly as I had suspected—put into the wrong folder on the server. In fact, a hard copy was sitting faceup on my desk, where someone actually competent might have noticed it and spared me this trip to the office. I forwarded the file to one of my executives in Marketing and made several copies of the document itself, highlighting the parties on the first page and pointedly placing one on the desk of every person involved in the account, before finally leaving the office. It was, in a way, kind of dickish of me to be so precise. But then, this was what they earned when they pulled me away from Karma.

I knew these small inconveniences got me too worked up, but it was this type of detail that defined a team. Which was exactly why I needed someone on top of their game for New York. I groaned as I dropped back into my car and started the engine, knowing this was just one more thing I needed to accomplish in the next month.

In my current mood, I was in no state to return to Karma. I'd only be surly and irritable . . . and not really in the fun way.

God, I just wanted to be with her. Why did it have to be so fucking difficult? I had so few hours with Karma as it was, and I didn't want to waste them because I was stressed about work and apartment hunting and finding someone who could just do their fucking job without being babysat. We'd complained about not seeing enough of each other, of working too hard, why didn't we just . . . fix it? Go away? I knew Karma thought the timing was all wrong, but when would it ever be right? Nobody was going to just hand it to us and since when had I ever been the type of person who waited for something to come along anyway?

Fuck that. Fix it.

"Get your shit together, Amy." My voice rang out in the quiet interior of my car, and after a brief glace to the clock to make sure I wasn't calling too late, I reached for my phone, scrolling to the correct number before hitting dial. I pulled out of the parking spot and turned onto Michigan Avenue.

After about six rings, Emily's voice boomed from the car speakers. "Oi, Amy!"

I smiled, accelerating away from work and headed toward one of the most familiar places on earth to me. "Emily, how are you?"

"Good, mate. Very bloody good. What's this rumor I hear of you lot moving out to the big city?"

I nodded, answering, "We'll be there in a little over a month. Getting set up at Fifth and Fiftieth."

"Close by. Perfect. We'll have to get together when you get to town . . ." She trailed off.

"Definitely, definitely." I hesitated, knowing Emily was probably wondering why I was calling her at eleven thirty at night on a Tuesday. "Look, Emily, I have a bit of a favor to ask."

"Let's have it."

"I'd like to take my girlfriend away for a bit, and—"

"Girlfriend?" Her laughter filled my car.

I laughed, too. I was fairly certain I'd never introduced anyone to Emily that way. "Karma, yes. We both work for RMG and have been slammed lately with the Booker campaign. It's rolling quite nicely now, and we maybe have some wiggle room before we move . . ." I hesitated, feeling the words bubble up inside me. "Would I be insane to hire someone to pack up our life here, find us a place in New York, and just . . . leave for a few weeks? Just get the hell out of town?"

"That doesn't sound mental, Amy. It sounds like the best way to keep yourself sorted."

"I think so, too. And I know it's impulsive, but I was thinking of taking Karma to France. I was wondering if you still had the house in Marseille, and if so, whether we could rent it for a few weeks."

Emily was laughing quietly. "Fuck yeah, it's still mine. But forget renting it—just have at it. I'll send you the directions straightaway. I'll have Inès go by and clean up for you. The place has been empty since I was there over the winter holidays." She paused. "When were you thinking of heading out?"

The vise that seemed to grip my chest loosened immeasurably as the plan began to solidify in my head. "This weekend?"

"Shit yeah, I'll get on it. Send me your flight details when you have them. I'll call her in the morning and make sure she's there to give you the keys."

"This is fantastic. Thank you, Emily. I owe you."

I could practically hear her sly grin when she said, "I'll remember that."

Feeling relaxed for the first time in ages, I turned up the music and let myself imagine getting on a plane with Karma, nothing ahead of us but sunshine, long mornings spent naked in bed, and some of the best food and wine the world had ever conjured up.

But I had one more stop to make. I knew it was late to go to my parents', but I had no choice. My mind was spinning with plans, and I couldn't head to bed until every last detail had been sorted out.

On the twenty-minute drive to their house, I called and left a message for my travel agent. Then I left a message on my sister Lauren's work voice mail that I was leaving for three weeks. I didn't even let myself imagine her reaction. We had a new office, we had everything at work sorted, and we could leave the business of packing up to someone else. I left a message for each of my senior managers letting them know the plan and what I expected each of them to handle in my absence. And then I rolled down all of the windows and let the cool night air whip around me, taking all of my stress with it.

Pulling up in front of my parents' house, I laughed thinking back on the first time Karma and I had come here together as a couple.

It was three days after her presentation to the scholarship board. Two of those days we'd scarcely left my home or my bed. But after the constant calls and texts from my family asking us to come over, for me to let them share some time with Karma, we agreed to a dinner at my parents' house. Everyone had missed her.

We talked on the drive, laughing and teasing, my free hand entwined with one of hers. Absently, she ran the index finger of her other hand in small circles over the top of my wrist, as if reassuring herself that it was real, that I was real, that we were. We hadn't faced the world outside yet, other than that night out with her girlfriends following her presentation. The transition would no doubt be at least a little awkward. But I would never have expected Karma to be anxious about any of it. She'd always faced every challenge with her own brand of bullheaded fearlessness.

It was only when we stood on the porch and I reached to open their front door that I realized her hand inside mine was shaking.

"What's wrong?" I pulled my hand back, turned her to face me.

She rolled her shoulders. "Nothing. I'm good."

"Unconvincing."

She threw me an annoyed look. "I'm fine. Just open the door."

"Holy shit," I said on an exhale, stunned. "Karma Ashcroft is actually nervous."

This time she turned to glare up at me fully. "You spotted that? Christ, you're brilliant. Someone should make you a COO and give you a big fancy office." She reached to open the door herself.

I stopped her hand from turning the knob and a grin spread across my face. "Karma?"

"I just haven't seen them since before . . . you know. And they saw you when you were all . . ." She made a gesture around me, which I gathered was meant to indicate "when Amy was a complete disaster, after Karma left her."

"Just . . . let's not make this a thing. I'm fine," she went on.

"I'm just enjoying the rare sighting of a jittery Karma. Give me a second, let me savor this."

"Fuck off."

"Fuck off?" I stepped in front of her, moved until her body pressed into mine. "Are you trying to seduce me, Miss Ashcroft?"

Finally, she laughed, her shoulders surrendering their tense determination. "I just don't want it to be—"

The front door flew open, and Lauren took a step forward, enveloping Karma in a massive hug. "There she is!"

Karma peeked up at me over my sister's shoulder and laughed. "—awkward," she finished, wrapping her arms around him.

Just inside the doorway stood my parents, wearing the biggest shit-eating grins I'd ever seen. My mom's eyes were suspiciously misty.

"It's been way too long," Lauren said, releasing my girlfriend and looking right at me.

Groaning inwardly, I registered that this entire night could very easily turn into a giant recap of what a trial this whole thing had been for Karma, of how impossible I'd been to work with; the details of Miss Ashcroft's challenging attitude would be whitewashed for history.

It was a good thing she looked so damn fit in her little black dress. I'd need the distraction.

I'd called Dad the morning of Karma's presentation, telling him I'd planned to attend and convince her to present the Booker slides. I told him, too, that I was going to ask her to take me back. As usual, Dad had been supportive, but guarded, telling me that no matter what Karma said, he was proud of me for going after what I wanted.

What I wanted now stepped into the house and hugged my mother, and my father, before looking up at me. "I don't know what I was worried about," she whispered.

"Were you nervous?" Mom asked, eyes wide.

"I just left so abruptly. I've felt bad about that, and about not seeing either of you for months . . ." Karma trailed off.

"No, no, no, no—you had to put up with Amy," Lauren said, ignoring my irritated sigh. "Trust us, we get it."

"Come on," I groaned, pulling her back. "We don't need to make this a thing."

"I just knew," Mom whispered, putting her hands on Karma's face. "I knew."

"What the hell, Mom?" I stepped closer, hugging her first and giving her a scowl second. "You 'knew' this even when you and Lauren set her up with Liam?"

"I think the phrase is 'shit or get off the pot,'?" Lauren offered.

"That is absolutely not the phrase I would have used, Lauren." Mom threw her a look and then wrapped her arm around Karma, urging her down the hall. She turned to talk to me over her shoulder. "I figured if you didn't see what was right in front of your face, maybe another one deserved a shot."

"Poor Liam never had a shot," Dad mumbled, surprising all of us and apparently even himself. He looked up, and then laughed. "Someone had to say it."

Climbing out of the car, I smiled at the memory of the rest of that evening: the ten minutes during which we'd all dissolved into hysterics over our shared experiences of getting food poisoning at inopportune times, the unbelievable crème brulée my mother had served after dinner, and, much later, the way Karma and I had barely made it back inside my house before falling into a tangle of limbs and sweat on my living room floor.

I turned the knob on my parents' front door, knowing my dad would still be up, but hoping not to wake my mother. The knob creaked and I eased it open with familiar care, lifting it slightly where I knew the wood swelled a little at the threshold.

But, to my surprise, Mom greeted me in the entryway, wearing her old purple robe and holding two cups of tea.

"I don't know why," she said, extending one cup to me, "but I was pretty sure you were going to turn up here tonight."

"Mother's intuition?" I asked, taking the cup and bending to kiss her cheek. I lingered there, hoping I could keep my emotions in check tonight.

"Something like that." Tears filled her eyes and she turned away before I could say something about them. "Come on, I know why you're here. I've got it down in the kitchen."


	21. Chapter 21

Karma's POV

"And you're sure we'll get the signatures on time?" I asked my assistant, who checked her watch and jotted something down in her notepad.

"Yes. Aaron's on his way over there now. We should have them back by lunch."

"Good," I said, closing the files and handing them back. "We'll give it a final look before the meeting and if everything goes—" The door to my outer office opened, and a very determined-looking Amy walked inside. My assistant let out a terrified squeak and I waved for her to go. She practically sprinted out of there.

Long legs carried her across the room in only a few strides, and she stopped just on the other side of my desk, slapping two crisp white envelopes down on a stack of marketing reports.

I looked down to the envelopes and then back up to her. "Something about this is so familiar," I said. "Which one of us is going to slam the door and storm out to the stairwell?"

She rolled her eyes. "Just open them."

"Well, good morning to you, too, Miss Raudenfeld."

"Karma, don't be a pain in the ass."

"You'd rather be a pain in mine?"

Her eyes softened and she leaned over my desk to kiss me. She'd gotten home late last night, long after I'd fallen asleep. I'd woken to the sound of my alarm clock to find her warm and very naked body pressed against mine. I deserved some kind of a medal for managing to leave that bed.

"Good morning, Miss Ashcroft," she said softly. "Now open the damn envelopes."

"If you insist. But don't say I didn't warn you. Slamming things down on desks has never really ended well for us. Well, for me. Maybe you could rectify that . . ."

"Karma."

"Fine, fine." I lifted the flap on the one with my name and pulled a printed sheet of paper from inside. "ORD to CDG," I read. "Chicago to France." I looked up at her. "They're sending me somewhere?"

Amy beamed, and frankly, she looked so good while doing it I was glad I was sitting down. "France. Marseille, to be exact. The second ticket is behind that one."

Plane tickets, one envelope for each of us. Scheduled to leave Friday. It was Tuesday already.

"I . . . I don't understand. We're going to France? This isn't about last night, is it? Because we have busy lives, Amy. These kinds of things will always happen. I promise I wasn't upset."

She rounded the desk and kneeled in front of me. "No. This isn't about last night. It's about a lot of nights. This is about me putting what's important first. And this," she said, motioning between us. "This is what's important. We hardly see each other anymore, Karma, and that's not going to change after the move. I love you. I miss you."

"I miss you, too. But . . . ahhh, I'm a little surprised. France is . . . really far and there's so much to do and—"

"Not just France. A private house—a villa. It belongs to my friend Emily, the one I went to school with? And it's beautiful and huge and empty," she added. "With a giant bed, several of them. A pool. We can cook and walk around naked; we don't even have to answer the phone if we don't want to. Come on, Karms."

"I love that you threw in the walking-around-naked part," I said. "Because that's most definitely how you'd close the deal."

She moved closer, clearly aware my resolve was breaking. "I pride myself on always knowing my opponent, Miss Ashcroft. So what do you say? Come with me? Please?"

"Jesus, Amy. It's like ten in the morning and you're killing me with the swoons here."

"I debated tranquilizing you and throwing you over my shoulder, but that might make things sticky at customs."

I took a deep breath and peered down at the tickets. "Okay, so we'd leave on the ninth and come back . . . Wait, is this right?"

She followed my gaze. "What?"

"Three weeks? I can't just drop everything and go to France for three weeks, Amy!"

She stood, confused. "Why? I was able to make arrangements and—"

"Are you serious? First, we're moving in a month. A month! And we haven't even picked out an apartment! Then there's my best friend, who was cheated on by the world's biggest asshat last week. And let's not forget the minor detail called my job? I have meetings and an entire department to hire and move to New York!"

Her face fell; clearly this was not the reaction she'd anticipated. The sun was behind her and when she turned her head, tilting it the slightest bit, the light caught her eyelashes, the angles of her face.

Ugh. Guilt swelled in my chest like a balloon. "Fuck. I'm sorry." I leaned into her and laid my head against her shoulder. "That is absolutely not the way I meant to say all that."

Strong arms wrapped around me and I felt her exhale. "I know."

Amy took my hand and led me to the small table in the corner of the room. She motioned for me to take a seat, while she took the chair opposite me. "Shall we negotiate?" she said, a challenge in her eyes I hadn't seen since she'd stepped into my office.

This I could do.

She leaned forward, hands clasped and elbows on the table in front of her. "The move," she began. "Admittedly, it's a big one. But we have a Realtor; I've seen the top three contenders. You just need to decide if you need to see them, or if you trust me to choose. We can let the Realtor handle the rest and pay people to do the actual packing and moving part." She raised a brow in question and I nodded for her to continue. "I know how much you care about Zita. Talk to her; see where she's at with all of this. You said you didn't even know if she was leaving him, right?"

"Yeah."

"So we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. And your job . . . I'm so incredibly proud of you, Karma. I know how hard you work and how important you are. But there will never be a perfect time. We'll always be busy, there will always be people who want our attention, and there will always be things that feel like they can't wait. It's a good exercise for you in delegating tasks—I love you, but you suck at delegating. And it's going to be even more hectic when we move. When's the next time we'll have a chance to do this? I want to be with you. I want to speak French to you and make you come on a bed in France where nobody can just drop by on the weekend or call either of us away for work."

"You're making it very hard to be the responsible adult here," I said.

"Being responsible is overrated."

I felt my mouth fall open and could do nothing but gape at her. I was just about to ask who this easygoing person was, and what they'd done with my girlfriend, when there was a knock at the door. I pulled my eyes away from a very pleased girlfriend to see a terrified intern walk in, staring at Amy with fear in her eyes. No doubt she'd drawn the short straw and been sent down to retrieve the Bitch.

"Um . . . Excuse me, Miss Ashcroft," she stuttered, gaze locked on me instead of her real target. "They're waiting for Miss Raudenfeld in the conference room on twelve . . ."

"Thank you," I answered. She left and I turned back to Amy.

"We'll discuss this later?" she asked quietly, standing.

I nodded, still a little off balance from her change in attitude. "Thank you," I said, vaguely motioning to the tickets, but meaning so much more.

She kissed my forehead. "Later."

Travel had . . . never really worked out for Amy and me. San Diego had been perfect while we were still tucked away in our own little bubble. It was when we tried to rejoin the living that it had all gone to hell. In a big way.

And then we'd planned to travel last Thanksgiving, and ended up canceling the trip because of work. We tried again in December; Amy had been drowning in a huge fitness account that was set to launch just before the New Year, and we both had the Booker launch in early January. Somehow, though, I'd convinced her to come home with me for a long weekend over the holidays.

To meet my father.

Amy hadn't wanted to—she'd been in the final stages of this huge campaign, had a family of her own to contend with. And a girlfriend who had spent the better part of the last year telling her father what a giant, overbearing bitch her boss was, only to then finally admit she was having sex with this boss. This trip had disaster written all over it.

Amy had been quiet throughout most of the flight, and when she hadn't suggested we join the Mile High Club even once, I knew something was going on.

"You're being awfully respectful over there, Raudenfeld. What's up?" I asked after we'd landed and were making our way to the rental car.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you haven't made one inappropriate comment or referred to me sucking, licking, touching, stroking, or otherwise praising your cunt once in the last three hours. I can practically hear you thinking and frankly, I'm a little concerned."

She reached down and smacked my ass. "Better? Your tits look great in that sweater, by the way."

"Talk to me."

"I'm meeting your father," she said, pulling at her collar.

"And?"

"And he knows what an asshole I was." I cleared my throat and she glared at me. "Can be."

"Can be?"

"Karma."

"It's all part of the Amy Raudenfeld charm everyone goes on about," I said, batting my lashes at her. "Since when did you apologize for that?"

She sighed. "Since we're going to see your father. And if he owns a calendar, he would have figured out that I was sleeping with you while we worked together."

"I had to face your family after all that, too. I'm sure Theo told Lauren about the Bathroom Incident, and if Lauren knows . . . oh my God, your mother knows we had sex in her favorite bathroom . . . when Liam was there on a blind setup to meet me." I smacked my palm to my forehead.

"Yeah, well, my family practically walks around wearing Team Karma shirts under their regular clothes so it's a little different."

We reached the door to the rental agency and I took her hand, stopping her. "Look, my dad knows who his daughter is. He knows I can be a little spirited—"

"Ha!"

It was my turn to glare. "And he knows I give as good as I get. You're fine."

She sighed and leaned forward to rest her forehead against mine. "If you say so."

Dad let out an evil whistle as he circled the shiny black Benz now parked in his driveway, boots crunching in the snow. "Always figured there was only one reason someone would drive a car like this: compensating for something. Wouldn't you agree, Amelia?"

"Amy," she corrected under her breath, before smiling tightly over to me.

"It's Christmas, Dad. All the four-wheel-drive vehicles were gone."

Things didn't improve at dinner, either.

As we sat around the table, my father stared at Amy like he was trying to match her up with a face he'd seen on the news. "Amy, huh?" he said, shooting a skeptical eye over his wineglass. "What are your intentions with my daugther?"

I groaned. "Daddy."

"To love her, sir. Make her happy the same way she makes me happy, for as long as she allows me to."

"Hmmm. Well, be careful with her," Dad said, glaring at Amy from across the table. "My hygienist's boyfriend is in the mob, and I doubt anyone would miss you."

"Dad!"

He looked at me, eyes wide and innocent. "What?"

"Mark's boyfriend is not in the mob."

"Of course he is. He's Italian."

"That doesn't mean anything!"

"Trust me. I've met him. Drives a black car with very dark windows. Mark called him Fat Don at the office party."

"His name is Glen, Dad, and he's studying to be a CPA. He's not in the mob."

"I don't know why you have to be so damn argumentative all the time, Karma. God only knows where you get it."

At that point Amy started laughing so hard she had to excuse herself from the table.

Later, after Amy won my father over by letting Dad beat her at Monopoly—how anyone would believe Amy Raudenfeld lost a game involving money, I'll never know—she snuck in from the guest room and climbed into my bed.

"You're going to get us busted," I said, already climbing on top of her.

"Not if you're quiet."

"Hmm, I don't know. Can't tell you how many times my dad busted me for sneaking out when I was in high school, and I was very quiet."

"Can we not talk about your dad right now? It's seriously distracting me from how hot it's going to be to fuck you in your teenage bed. And Jesus, Karma. Are these even considered underwear?" she said, twisting her hands in the tiny straps of my panties and pulling. Hard.

"Oh my God!" I whisper-shouted. "Those were new and—"

"You loved it," she finished, grinning. "Just doing my part to uphold tradition."

I wanted to argue but 1) she was right and 2) I was distracted as Amy slid the torn fabric to the side and slipped a finger inside of me. She took my hip in her other hand, encouraging me to move over her.

"Like that," she said, lips parted and eyes trained between my legs. "Fuck—take your shirt off."

Ripped panties forgotten, I nodded, lifting my T-shirt over my head and tossing it behind us. She slipped in a second finger and I sped up, the bed frame squeaking softly beneath us.

Amy sat, whispering "Shh," against my mouth. "Sit up a little."

I shifted onto my knees and watched as she pushed her pajama bottoms down her hips.

"Are we really doing this here?" I whispered. The bed was too small, the room too hot and too quiet—and my dad was just two doors down. It was stupid and inconvenient and I couldn't remember wanting something more.

I switched on the small lamp so I could see her better. Her lips were swollen, her hair a mess, and her grin was totally ridiculous when she said, "I fucking love you, you filthy fucking girl. You want me to watch?"

"Yeah."

"Touch yourself," she whispered.

I did, way too slowly to get me anywhere, but the perfect speed to make her eyes grow to the size of saucers before she stretched to kiss me. She mumbled something against my lips, her tongue moving lazily against mine. She was all soft noises and hands everywhere, her fingers sliding over my clit, teasing me, slowly making me crazy with need.

It was a blur then, the feeling of being so full, of warm breath and warmer skin. Amy sucked on my nipple, teeth dragging, fingers working her magic. I was so lost to everything else that I didn't even notice the familiar squeak of the hinge on my bedroom door.

"Oh for the love of Pete!" my dad yelled, and suddenly it was legs and arms and blankets being tossed everywhere. I heard the distant flailing of my father as he rushed back down the hall, muttering about his little girl and sex in his house and telltale signs of a heart attack.

Let's just say that neither Amy nor I had ever been so grateful for anything as we were for the NDSU football player who needed an emergency root canal the next morning and whose coach, an old friend of my father's, insisted that only Dad could handle it. Dad was at the office, waiting on their arrival from Fargo before the sun was even up.

No, vacations never really seemed to work out for us.

Guilt ate away at me the rest of the morning. I shouldn't have been so hasty to tell Amy it was impossible. Here she was, trying to be flexible, and I was the one telling her to consider work. What the hell was wrong with me? I tried to catch her between meetings. I tried to meet up with her for lunch. The closest I got was passing her in the hall, a group of executives babbling around her like fanboys around a celebrity.

"I need to talk to you," I mouthed.

"Bat signal?" I think she said back.

I shook my head. "Dinner?"

She nodded, blew me a kiss behind everyone's back, and was off, herded down the hall and into the elevator.

"So how are things?"

Zita shrugged, dragging another fry through ketchup before popping it into her mouth, but definitely not looking at me. "Things are fine."

I glared at her. Things were always fine with Zita.

"I'm serious!" she insisted, leaning back in her chair. "There's so much noise about it all. I'm just trying to figure out what is truth, and what isn't."

"Sounds like a good plan," I said.

"I've known him for so long it's just hard to reconcile it all. But, honestly, I'm doing fine."

"Zita, pardon the intrusion, because I suppose technically it's none of my business, but that is the biggest load of shit I've ever heard."

"What?"

"You heard me! This thing with Andy is a huge deal! Amy wants us to go to France and besides the obvious twelve hundred fifty-four reasons why I shouldn't go, near the top of that list is you!"

"What?" she repeated, though a bit louder this time. "Amy wants you to go to France! Oh my God that's amazing! And wait, what do you mean 'me'?"

"Yeah, she wants us to have some time away to reconnect before the craziness of New York is upon us all," I said, before balling up my napkin and throwing it at her. "And I hesitate to leave for three weeks because I'm worried about you!"

Zita laughed, standing to walk around the table and hug me. "That is the sweetest, most idiotic thing anyone has ever said to me. I love you, Karma."

"But I'm moving," I added, squeezing her tightly. "These were going to be our last three weeks together."

Zita took the seat next to me. "I'm a big girl, and there are planes. I love—love—that you wanted to stay here and take care of me. But . . . I think Amy might be right," she said, wincing a little. "You guys need this, and if you can make it work, well, you should throw some skimpy clothes in a bag and drag that woman to France."

I laughed, leaning on her shoulder. "God, it would complicate things so much. I'd have to find someone to do interviews, sit in on all my meetings—"

"But would it be worth it?"

I smiled, remembering how excited Amy had been when he'd told me about the trip, and how his face had fallen when I hadn't shared his enthusiasm. "Yeah, it would."


	22. Chapter 22

Amy´s POV

I rolled over, grabbing my phone from the bedside table and muting the alarm with a swipe of my thumb. I was exhausted, having fallen asleep only two hours before. I'd worked until almost two and then tried to slip into bed without waking Karma, but she'd stirred and climbed on top of me before I could say anything.

As if I would have stopped her.

I couldn't really complain that it meant another hour of sleep lost, but now, when her hand reached blindly beneath the blankets, sweeping down my stomach to touch me, I knew I had to stop her. I had a flight to catch, alone.

She was coming to France, but she was leaving a day after me, insisting with a stubbornness all her own that she needed the rest of Friday to get the last few things sorted. I would have waited for her, but because the flights were all last minute there weren't any direct flights, nor were there any seats together anyway. Deciding to keep my flight, I figured I'd get there early and get us situated at Emily's place.

"I don't think we have time," I mumbled into her hair.

"Not buying it," she said, voice croaky with sleep. "This girl," she said, touching my very wet folds, "thinks we have plenty of time."

"The car is picking me up in fifteen minutes, and thanks to your appetite last night, I need another shower."

"There was that one time you only needed two minutes to come. You're telling me you don't have two minutes?"

"Morning sex is never only two minutes," I reminded her. "Not when you're all sleepy and rumpled and warm." I rolled out of bed and walked into my bathroom to the sound of her groan muffled by my stolen pillow.

When I emerged, clean and dressed, she sat up in bed, still hugging my pillow and sort-of-pretending she wasn't upset that we had to fly separately to France.

"Don't pout," I murmured, bending to kiss the corner of her mouth. "You'll just confirm what I've always suspected: you can't function without me."

I expected her to roll her eyes or pinch me playfully but she blinked down to my tie and reached to needlessly adjust it. "I can function without you. But I don't like being away from you. It feels like you take my home with you when you go."

Well, fuck.

I laid my garment bag across the bed and took her face in my hands until she looked up, and could see the effect her words had on me. She smiled, tongue slipping out to wet her lips.

With one final kiss, I whispered, "I'll see you in France."

I would lose a day in transit, arriving on Saturday. Karma's flight was only twelve hours after mine, but because she couldn't go direct she had to red-eye it to New York and then leave for Paris the following day, getting into Marseille on Monday. It would give me time to prepare for her arrival, but, knowing Emily, the house would be spotless and stocked with food and drink and I would have nothing to do.

An idle Amy . . . and all that.

I settled into the first class cabin, declining the champagne, and pulled out my phone to text Karma.

Boarded. See you across the pond.

My phone buzzed several seconds later. Rethinking this whole trip. There's a shoe sale at Dillons this weekend.

I laughed, choosing to ignore this one and slipping my phone back into my jacket pocket. Closing my eyes as the other passengers filed in past me, I remembered our past trips. We'd only traveled together a handful of times, but nothing ever went according to plan. Had I incurred some sort of vacation voodoo I wasn't aware of? It seemed we were destined to be plagued by trips that went terribly off course, were taken separately, were colored by miserable arguments . . . or were canceled altogether.

My stomach turned when I remembered our attempt at a vacation last Thanksgiving. On impulse one weekend we'd purchased tickets to St. Bart's and rented a house on the water. It was meant to be perfect but instead it led to the first time Karma stopped speaking to me since our reconciliation.

"Motherf**king cocksucking son of a whore."

I looked up from my desk, my eyebrows inching to my hairline as Karma slammed my door and stormed to my desk.

"Did the gimp escape the dungeon again, Miss Ashcroft?"

"Close enough. Booker is pushing up launch."

I stood so abruptly my chair skidded back and banged into the wall. "What?"

"January is the new March, apparently. The first press blast is set to go out January seventh."

"That's a horrible time to pitch something like this! Everyone is still drunk or cleaning up the holiday mess. No one is buying fancy apartments."

"That's what I told Big George."

"Did you also tell him he needs to stick to counting his Benjamins and leave the marketing to us?"

She laughed, crossing her arms across her chest. "I may have actually used those words. With a few other gangster terms thrown in."

I sat back down, rubbing my hands over my face. Our flight was scheduled to leave in the morning, on Thanksgiving Day, and there was no way we could leave work now. "You told him this was okay?"

Across the desk, I could sense that she grew completely still. "What was my option?"

"To tell him we're not going to be ready!"

"But that's a lie. We can be ready."

I dropped my hands, gaping at her. "Yes, but only if we work fifteen-hour days through the holidays—and all to accommodate his shitty timing for a launch."

She threw her hands up, eyes on fire. "He's paying us a million dollars for basic marketing and we're inking a deal for another ten-million-dollar media campaign. You think fifteen-hour days are unreasonable to keep our biggest client?"

"Of course not! But he's also not your only client! Rule number one in business is to not ever let the big dog know how small the other dogs are."

"Damnit, Amy. I'm not going to tell him we can't deliver."

"Sometimes a little pushback is a good thing. You're being green, Ashcroft. If you weren't sure, you should have sent the call to me."

I immediately wanted to pull the words back into my mouth. Her eyes went wide, her mouth dropped, and fuck, her hands curled into fists at her sides.

"Are you fucking serious right now? Are you going to cut my fucking steak at dinner, too, you egomaniacal asshat?"

I couldn't help myself. "Only if I can feed it to you and help you chew."

Her face smoothed and I could see her calculate how much effort she wanted to put into kicking my ass. "We're skipping St. Bart's," she said, flatly.

"Obviously. Why do you think I'm pissed?"

"Well, even if we did still go at this point, you'd be sleeping alone with your hand and a dildo."

"I could work with that. These two hands provide some variety and I had a new dildo I wanted to try."

She blinked away, jaw clenched. "Are you trying to make me more angry?"

"Sure, why not."

Dark eyes turned back on me, narrowed. Her voice shook a little with one word: "Why?"

"So you can feel the pain more. Because you should have told George that these kinds of decisions have to be cleared with the entire team and we'd have an answer for him after the holiday."

"How do you know I didn't say that?"

"Because you came in here and delivered news. You didn't act like it was a suggestion."

She stared at me, eyes flashing through a hundred responses. I waited to see how many curse words she could string together but she surprised me instead, and turned to leave my office.

Karma didn't stay over that night. It was only the second night we'd spent apart after her presentation at J. T. Miller last June, and I didn't even try to sleep. Instead, I watched Mad Men on Netflix and wondered which of us would apologize first.

The problem was I was right, and I knew it.

Thanksgiving morning arrived with snow flurries and a wind so strong it pushed me forward into the building as I walked, alone, from the parking garage to my office.

It had never occurred to me that she would leave me again after our fight. I suspected Karma and I were in it for the long haul, whether the long haul officially began tomorrow or ten years in the future. There wasn't anything she could do to scare me off.

And while I felt the same was true for her, she rarely walked away from a fight. She either battled with me until I was figuratively on my knees or she ended up on her knees in an entirely different way.

Only a few RMG employees were at work on Thanksgiving—the members of the Booker team. And every one of them glared at Karma as she walked down the hall to get some coffee. Knowing her, she had probably worked late last night and slept under her desk.

She didn't even glance over to where I stood in the doorway to the conference room. Still, I could almost hear her thinking as she passed every disgruntled team member: "You can suck my dick. And you, too, can suck my dick. And you? The slacker with the pathetic pout? You can really suck my dick."

She headed to her office, settled in, and left her door open.

Come and get me, she was saying. Come on in and let's have it out.

But for as much as everyone probably wanted to give her an earful for making us cancel our holiday plans, no one did. Each of us had been raised in the business world under the same ethos: work trumps all. The last person to leave work is the hero. The first person in has bragging rights. Working over holidays gets you into heaven.

And while a more experienced executive would have told Booker that what he'd asked wasn't possible, as always I admired Karma's determination. This wasn't just about meeting a new milestone for her. This was her launching her career. This was her foundation. Karma was me a few years ago.

After everyone else had left for the evening, I knocked on her open door, gently alerting her to my presence.

"Miss. Raudenfeld," she said, pulling off her glasses and looking up at me. The city skyline winked behind her, speckled lights covering her entire wall of windows. "Here to show me how to grow a penis so I can get the job done?"

"Karma, I'm pretty sure if you wanted to grow one, you could do it by will alone."

She let a half smile form, pushing back from her desk and crossing her legs. "I'd grow one just so I could ask you to suck on it."

I couldn't contain my laughter, bending over and collapsing into the chair across the desk from her. "I knew you were going to say that."

Her eyebrows pulled together a little. "Well, before you say anything else, yes, I know this sucks. And . . . I think you were right. We could be in St. Bart's right now, on the beach."

I started to speak, but she held up her hand to urge me to wait.

"But the thing is, Amy, no matter how much I should have, I didn't want to tell Papadakis no. I wanted to deliver, because we can, and we should. It's down to the wire anyway and we've had a lot of time to work on this. It felt disingenuous to say we couldn't make it happen."

"True," I conceded, "but by letting him push a milestone ahead to the beginning of the quarter, you've set a precedent."

"I know," she said, rubbing her temples with her fingertips.

"But actually, I wasn't coming in here to tell you what you'd done was wrong. I was coming in here to tell you I understand why you did it. I can't really fault you."

She dropped her hands, eyeing me cautiously.

"At this point in your career, I can't be surprised you said yes to Booker."

Her mouth opened and I could see a litany of curse words form on her tongue.

"Easy, firecracker," I said, leaning forward and holding up my hands. "I don't mean you're naive; I'm not pulling the 'seasoning' card again—though it's true no matter how much you hate to hear it. I mean you're still building. You want to show the world that you're Atlas—and to a Titan, that fucking celestial sphere weighs nothing. It's just that it's impacted the entire team, and over a holiday. I get why you did it, and I also get why you're conflicted. I'm sorry this is hard for you, because I've been there." I lowered my voice, moved a little closer. "It sucks."

The room seemed to grow darker, the sun dipping behind the horizon just as I'd finished my sentence. Karma watched me, face smooth and practically unreadable.

Well, unreadable to anyone else. Anyone who hadn't seen that face a thousand times, the one that told me she wanted to smack me, kiss me, scratch me, and then fuck me.

"Don't smirk," she said, eyes narrowing. "I see what you're doing."

"What am I doing?"

"Trying to build me up. Being a hardass, yet also my lover. Damnit, Amy."

"You're going to fuck me in your office!" I crowed, my words colored with surprise and glee. "God, you're easy."

She stood quickly, walking around the desk and reaching immediately for my tie. "Damnit." She unknotted it, wrapping it around my eyes and tying it behind my head. "Stop studying me," she hissed into my ear. "Stop seeing everything."

"Never." I closed my eyes behind the silk fabric and let my other senses take over, inhaling the delicate citrus scent of her perfume, reaching to feel the soft skin of her forearms. I moved my hands slowly down her body and turned her around, pulling her back to my chest. "This better?"

Her quiet huff wasn't for my benefit; it was a sound of genuine frustration. "Amy," she murmured, leaning back. "You're making me crazy."

I gripped her hips, pulling her to me so she could feel me against her ass. "At least some things never change."

I blinked up to the flight attendant, who bent low to catch my eye and had obviously just said something.

"I'm sorry?" I asked.

"Would you like a beverage with your meal?"

"Ah, yes," I said, pulling my brain from the memory of Karma's body, tight and coiled around me as I'd fucked her over her desk. "Just some Grey Goose and a cup of ice, please."

"And for lunch? We have filet mignon or a cheese and olive plate."

I ordered the latter and glanced out the window. From thirty thousand feet up, I could be anywhere. But I had the distinct feeling I was headed back in time.

I hadn't been back to France since my return to the States, when I met Karma in person. For what felt like the hundredth time, I registered how that old Amy didn't feel familiar in the slightest.

Thanksgiving had been a revelation in part because, before Karma, I would have also said yes to George's demand without even a thought. Karma was so similar to me in so many ways, it was actually a little frightening.

I smiled as I thought back to my mother's advice:

"Find a person who will be your equal in every way. Don't let yourself fall for someone who'll put your world before theirs. Fall for the powerhouse who lives as fearlessly as you do. Find the one who makes you want to be a better person."

Well, I had found her. Now all I had to do was wait for her to get here, so I could make sure she knew.

The path leading to our borrowed villa was covered in small, smooth stones. They were brown and uniform in size, and although they were clearly selected for their appearance and how well they fit the landscaping, it was refreshingly obvious that the grounds were meant to be enjoyed, not treated as a precious museum piece. Flower beds and urns lined both sides of the path, each spilling over with bright, colorful blossoms. There were trees everywhere, and off in the distance was a little seating area, screened from the rest of the yard by a wall of blooming vines.

Truly, I had never seen a more beautiful country home. The house was a soft red, the color of faded clay, and weathered to an absolutely gorgeous effect. White shutters framed the tall windows on the first and second floors, and more vibrant flowers lined beds against the doors. The perfume in the air was a mixture of ocean and peony.

Bougainvillea crawled up a trellis and framed the French provincial-inspired narrow double doorway. The top step was cracked, but swept clean, and a simple, soft green mat lay atop the sun-bleached concrete.

I turned, looking behind me at the yard. In the far corner and beneath several fig trees, a long table was covered in a brilliant orange tablecloth, the tabletop decorated simply with a narrow line of tiny blue bottles of different shapes and sizes. Clean white plates were spaced at even intervals, waiting for a dinner party to appear. A green lawn stretched to where I stood on the narrow porch, broken only by the occasional inground planter bursting with purple, yellow, and pink flowers.

I pulled the key from my pocket and entered the house. From the outside, it was clearly large, but it almost seemed to expand like an optical illusion inside.

Christ, Emily, this seems a little excessive. I knew her house in the Provence region was large, but I didn't realize there were so many fucking rooms. Just from the front door, I could see at least a dozen doorways connecting off the main hall, and doubtless there were countless other rooms upstairs and out of sight.

I paused in the entryway, staring at the enormous urn that looked like the larger cousin to a small vase my mother had in her dining room hutch; the cerulean blue base glaze was identical, and the same beautiful yellow lines bled down its curved sides. I remembered the gift from when Emily brought it for my mother the first time she'd come home with me, over the winter holidays. I hadn't realized at the time how personal the hostess gift had been to her, but now, looking around her vacation home, I could see the same artist's work everywhere: in plates mounted above the mantel, in a handmade teapot and a set of simple cups on a tray in the parlor.

I smiled, reaching out to touch the urn. Karma would completely lose it when she saw it; it was her favorite thing in my mother's house. A feeling overcame me that we were almost fated to have come here.

After her birthday dinner in January, Karma hesitated in the dining room, glancing at Mom's impressive art collection in the hutch. But instead of going for the obvious gleam of the Tiffany vases or the intricate detail of the carved wooden bowls, she went straight for a tiny blue vase in the corner.

"I don't think I've ever seen this color before," she said, awestruck. "I didn't think this color existed outside of the imagination."

Mom walked over, pulled it from the shelf. Under the soft light of the chandelier, the color seemed to almost wink and change even as Karma held it still in her hand. I'd never noticed before how pretty the piece was.

"It's one of my favorites," Mom admitted, smiling. "I've never seen anything this color anywhere else either."

But that wasn't entirely true, I thought, as I stepped away from the urn and walked to the mantel. The ocean here was that color, when the sun was high over the horizon and the sky was clear. Only then did it hit that exact same blue, like the heart of the deepest sapphire. An artist who lived here would know that.

On the shelf were three handmade santons, the small nativity figurines traditionally made by artists in Provence. All were obviously made by the same artist who made Mom's vase, the giant urn, and the rest of the art here. He or she must have been local, whether still alive or not, but perhaps Karma would have the opportunity to see some other pieces while visiting. The coincidence, the perfection of it, felt almost surreal.

The blues and greens of the platter mounted over the mantel caught the late afternoon sun and redirected the light, casting the wall behind it in a soft blue glow. With the wind blowing through the trees outside and the sunlight winking in and out of shadows, the effect was a bit like watching the surface of the ocean move in the wind. Combined with the crisp white furniture and otherwise simple decorating in the sitting room, it immediately made me feel calmer. The world of RMG and Booker, of work and stress and the constant buzzing of my phone, felt a million miles away.

Unfortunately, so did Karma.

As if she could hear my thoughts from where she sat on a plane headed over the Atlantic, my phone buzzed in my pocket and her unique text chime rang out in the silent room.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I glanced down and read the message: Mechanic strike. All flights canceled. I'm stuck in New York.


	23. Chapter 23

Karma's POV

"What do you mean grounded?" I said, gaping at the woman on the other side of the counter. She was about my age, with freckled cheeks and strawberry-blond hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. She also looked like she was two seconds from strangling me and every other person in the international terminal at LaGuardia.

"Unfortunately we've just been informed of a mechanic union strike," she said flatly. "All Provence Airlines flights in and out of the airport have been canceled. We're terribly sorry for the inconvenience."

Well, she didn't sound very sorry. I continued to stare, blinking rapidly as her words sunk in. "Excuse me, what?"

She arranged her features into a tight, practiced smile. "All flights have been canceled due to the strike." I glanced over her shoulder to the Provence Airlines departure and arrival screens. Sure enough, CANCELED was emblazoned across each line.

"You're telling me I'm stuck here? Why didn't anyone tell me this in Chicago?"

"We'd be happy to help you make accommodations for the night—"

"No no no, that's impossible. Please, check again."

"Ma'am, as I told you, there are no Provence Airlines flights taking off or landing. You can check with the other airlines to see if they can accommodate you. There's nothing else I can do."

I groaned, letting my forehead fall to the counter. Amy was waiting for me, probably sitting outside in the sun at this very moment, laptop open and working like the overachieving loser she was. God, she turns me on.

"This can't be happening," I said, straightening and giving the attendant the most pleading expression I could muster. "The sweetest jackass in the world is waiting for me in France and I can't screw this up!"

"Mkaaaay," she said clearing her throat and straightening a stack of papers.

I was doomed. "How long?" I asked.

"There's no way to tell. Obviously they'll try and resolve the issue as soon as possible, but it could be one day, it could be more."

Well, that was helpful.

With a dramatic sigh and a few muffled swear words I dragged myself from the counter, in search of a quiet corner to call my assistant. Oh, and to text Amy. This was not going to go over well.

The phone rang within seconds.

I maneuvered through the crowd, through the throngs of stranded passengers taking up virtually every flat surface in the Provence Airlines terminal, and stopped at a tiny alcove near the restrooms.

"Hi."

"What the fuck do you mean 'stuck in New York'?!" she shouted.

I winced, pulling the phone from my ear before taking a much-needed calming breath.

"It means exactly what you think it means. We've been grounded, no flights in or out. I'm having a few people check with Delta and a few other airlines, but I'm sure everyone else has already done that, too."

"This is unacceptable!" she roared. "Do they know who you are? Let me talk to someone."

I laughed. "Nobody here knows or cares who I am. Or you for that matter."

She was silent for a moment, long enough that I actually looked to see if I'd dropped the call. I hadn't. The sound of birds singing filled the line, a wind chime off in the distance. When she finally did speak, it was in that low, steady voice I'd become so accustomed to. The one that still sent goose bumps along my skin. The one she used when she meant business.

"Tell them to get your ass on a plane,"she said, enunciating every word.

"Everything is overbooked on every plane, Amy. What the hell do you want me to do? Catch a ride on a boat? Use a portkey? Simmer down, I'll get there as soon as I can."

She groaned, and I could tell the moment she realized she couldn't argue or charm her way out of this. "But when?"

"I don't know, babe. Tomorrow, maybe? The next day? Soon, I promise."

With a resigned sigh she asked, "So what now?" I heard the sound of a door opening and closing, the tinkle of soft music in the background.

"We wait." I sighed. "I'll get a room, maybe get some work done. Maybe I can check out those apartments while I'm here. And then I promise, the first available flight out of here? I'm on it. Even if I have to take out a few businessmen with the heel of my shoe—I'll get there."

"You bet your ass you will," she said.

I shook my head to clear it from the sound of her commanding voice. "So tell me about the house. Is it as gorgeous as I imagine?"

"Better. I mean, your company would obviously improve it, but damn. Emily really outdid herself on this one."

"Well, try and enjoy it. Sit in the sun, swim, read something trashy. Walk around barefoot."

"Walk around barefoot? That's an unusual request, even for you."

"Humor me."

"Yes, ma'am."

I grinned. "Damn, I think I like this side of you. Pretty sexy when you take orders, Raundelfed."

She laughed softly into the phone. "Oh, and Karma?"

"Hmm?"

"I hope you didn't pack any panties. You won't be needing them."

I spent the rest of the day at the airport, praying for a miracle or a flight to France. I got neither.

It took hours to locate my luggage, so by the time I finally walked through the door of my hotel room, I was ready to pass out. With the time difference it was too late, or too early, to call Amu, so I'd sent her a short text while I ran myself a bath and ordered a bottle of wine, along with anything containing chocolate, from the room service menu.

I'd just climbed into the large tub—wineglass and chocolate cheesecake balanced precariously on the edge—when my phone rang. My hand fumbled around on the tile floor until I found it, and a smile filled me when Amy's face lit up the screen.

"I thought you'd be asleep," I said.

"Bed's too big."

I smiled at her sleepy voice. This was the Amy who would roll over in the middle of the night, limbs warm and heavy, sweet words mumbled into my skin. She'd always been so much better at all of this than I had, even from the beginning.

"What are you doing?" she asked, bringing my attention back to the phone.

"Bubble bath," I said, and grinned at the sound of her groan on the other end of the line.

"No fair."

"What about you?"

"Just going over some paperwork."

"Did you find my note?

"Note?"

"I left you something."

"You did?"

"Mm-hmm. Check your laptop bag."

I heard the creak of leather as he stood, the sound of feet padding across a tile floor followed by laughter. "Karma," she said, laughing harder now. "It looks like someone slipped a ransom note in here."

"Very funny."

"'Three observations about today: I didn't get everything done on my to-do list, the salad you made me for lunch was delicious, and, most importantly, I love you,'?" she read, and then fell silent as she read the rest of the note to herself. When she finished, she grumbled, "I . . . fuck. It makes me insane that you aren't here."

I closed my eyes. "The universe is conspiring against us."

"You know, there's a part of me that wants to say none of this would have happened if you weren't so stubborn, and would have just come with me in the first place." I started to protest. "But," she said, continuing, "your determination is one of the things I love most about you. You never settle. You'd never expect someone to do a job you wouldn't do yourself. And you wouldn't be the woman I fell in love with if you changed that. It's exactly what I would have done. As usual. And also a little creepy to realize how alike we are."

I sat up in the cooling water, bringing my knees to my chest. "Thank you, Amy. That means a lot to me."

"Well, I meant it. And you can show me your appreciation when you get that hot little ass to France. Deal?"

I rolled my eyes. "Deal."

I didn't get to France the next day. Or the day after that. And by day three I was actually trying to remember why hitching a ride on a boat had seemed like such a bad idea in the first place.

It's possible I called Amy more in those three days than in the entirety of our relationship, but it wasn't enough, and did nothing to ease the hollow ache that had taken up permanent residence inside my chest.

I kept myself busy, but there was no denying I was homesick. I wasn't sure exactly when it had happened, but at some point, Amy had become it for me. As in it it. The One.

And it was fucking terrifying.

I'd come to this realization while out for a walk. My assistant had called, saying she'd been able to get me on an Air France flight later that night. My first thought had been of Amy, and how I couldn't wait to tell her I was on my way. I'd nearly sprinted to my hotel room.

But then I'd stopped, heart racing and lungs on fire. When had this happened, when had she become my everything? And I wondered, was it possible she was trying to tell me she felt the same way? I packed in a daze, throwing clothes aimlessly into my bag and collecting my things around the room. I thought back on how much she'd changed in the last year. The quiet moments at night, the way she looked at me sometimes as if I were the only woman on the planet. I wanted to be with her—always. And not just in the same apartment or bed, but for good.

It was then that I was struck by an idea so crazy, so insane, that I literally burst out laughing. I'd never been the type of woman to sit back and wait for the things I wanted to appear, so why should this be any different? And that was it.

Amy Raudenfeld had no idea what was about to hit her.

Amy's POV

As impossible as it seemed, I was bored out of my f**king mind in this beautiful, enormous French villa. The place required no cleaning or handyman work, my VPN connection was so slow I couldn't get on the RMG server to conduct actual business, and—perhaps most strangely—I felt like there were certain things I shouldn't do until Karma got here.

It felt wrong to dive into the infinity pool knowing she was stuck in New York. I didn't want to walk through the vineyards bordering the house, because it seemed like something we should discover at the same time. Emiy's housekeeper had put out some bottles of wine for us to enjoy, but surely only a giant a**hole would drink them alone. My claim to this house was hers, too. I'd still only opened one bedroom door, and slept there, not wanting to go through our options until she'd arrived. Together we would pick out where we would spend our nights.

Of course, if I said any of this to her she would laugh at me and tell me I was being dramatic. But that's why I wanted her here. Something monumental happened to me the other day when I used the bat signal, and that sense of urgency hadn't diminished, and probably wouldn't until she was here and had heard what I had to say.

I walked through the gardens, stared out at the ocean in the distance, and checked my phone again, reading Karma's most recent text for the hundredth time:

Looks like Air France might have an open seat.

She'd sent this one three hours ago. Although it seemed promising, her previous three texts had been similar, and ultimately she'd been bumped from those flights. Even if she had left three hours ago, she wouldn't make it to Marseille until tomorrow morning, at best.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a small figure emerge from the back of the house and place a platter of food on the table closest to the pool. Another peek at the clock on my phone told me that I'd managed to kill a few hours, and it was finally time for lunch. The house had come with a cook, a fifty-something woman named Dominique, who baked bread every morning, and, so far, served some variety of fish, fresh garden greens, and figs at lunch. Dessert was handmade macarons or tiny cookies with jam thumbprints. If Karma didn't get here soon, Dominique would have to roll me to the door to greet my lady friend.

Beside my plate was a large glass of wine, and when I looked over at Dominique, she'd stopped at the threshold of the back door, pointed to the wine, and said, "Le boire. Vous vous ennuyez, et solitaire."

Well, shit. I was bored, and I was lonely. One glass of wine couldn't hurt. I wasn't celebrating—I was surviving, right? I thanked Dominique for lunch, and sat down at the table, trying to ignore the perfect breeze, the perfect temperature, the sound of the ocean not even a half mile in the distance, the feel of the warm tile beneath my bare feet. I wouldn't enjoy a single second until Karma was here.

Amy, you are one pathetic navel-gazer.

As usual, the fish was incredible, and the salad with tiny tart onions and little cubes of a sharp, white cheese packed so much flavor that before I knew it, my wineglass was empty and Dominique was at my side, quietly refilling it.

I began to stop her, telling her I needed no more wine. "Je vais bien, je n'ai pas besoin de plus."

She winked at me. "Puis l'ignorer."

Then ignore it.

One bottle of wine down and I began wondering why I hadn't bought a villa in France myself. I had lived in the country before, after all, and while the memories were bittersweet—time away from friends and family, a grueling work schedule—I'd lived here in a time of my life that felt so short in hindsight. I was still young. I was still starting out, really. Thank fuck Karma and I had found each other when we still had our whole lives ahead of us.

Hell, if Emily could find a gorgeous place like this, I could find one that was even more lush and beautiful.

The wine had left my limbs warm and heavy, my head full of rambling thoughts that seemed to have no reason. How insane would it have been to know Karma in my early twenties? We would have torn this place up, and probably lasted only a weekend. Isn't it amazing how you meet the person you're meant to meet, when you're supposed to meet her?

I fumbled with my phone and texted Karma: I'm so glad we met when we did. Even if you were an enormous pain in my ass you're still the best thing that ever hapened to me.

I stared intently at my phone, looking for an indication that she was replying, but nothing. Had her phone died? Or was she asleep in the hotel? Could she text on the airline? I did the mental calculation, knowing she was six hours? Seven hours behind . . . ? No, too complicated. I smiled at Dominique as she poured me another glass of wine, and I texted Karma again: Not drinking all of the winembut what I have is dellicious! I promise to save some for you.

I stood, tripping over . . . something. I frowned down at the lawn and wondered if I'd stepped on a small animal. Discarding the thought, I walked into the garden, stretching my arms and letting out a long, happy sigh. I felt relaxed for the first time since I'd last fucked Karma, which was about a zillion years ago. With a full stomach and a bit of wine in me, I realized I hadn't taken the time to plan for Karma's arrival at all. We had some things to get out of the way first. We had some talking to do, some planning.

Would I lead her to the garden, pull her down onto the lawn with me, and make her listen? Or wait for a quiet moment over dinner and then go to her, guiding her out of the chair and close to me? I knew what I wanted to say—I'd gone over the words a million times in my head on the flights here—but I didn't know when I would say it.

Best to let her be here a few days before dropping the hammer.

I closed my eyes, leaned my head back, and tilted my head up to the sky. I let myself enjoy it for just a beat. The weather was spectacular. The last time I'd been outside in the sun with Karma was at a barbecue at Lauren's the previous weekend, and it had only been marginally warm. After a day in the sun and wind, we'd gone home and had some of the laziest, quietest sex I could remember.

I opened my eyes and immediately clapped a hand over my face in the bright sun. "Ow. Fuck."

Dominique appeared several yards away and pointed to the front gate. "Allez," she said, telling me to go. "Se promener. Vous êtes ivre."

I laughed. Hell yes, I was tipsy. She'd poured the entire bottle of wine for me. "Je suis ivre parce que vous me versa une bouteille entière de vin." I think that's what I said.

With a smile, she lifted her chin. "Allez chercher des fleurs dans la rue. Demandez Mathilde."

This was good. I had a task. Find some flowers. Ask for Mathilde. I bent to tie my shoe and headed out of the property, toward town. Dominique was a wily one, getting me drunk and then sending me off on errands so I wasn't moping around the house all day. She and Karma would get along swimmingly.

Not a half mile down the road, there was a small storefront with flowers spilling out of every conceivable container: vases and baskets, boxes and urns. Over the door was a small sign written in looping script that said simply, MATHILDE.

Bingo.

A bell rang as I entered, and a young blond woman stepped from the back into the small main room of the store.

Greeting me in French, she quickly gave me a once-over and then asked, "You're the American?"

"Oui, mais je parle fran?ais."

"But I also speak English," she said, her thick accent curling around each word. "And it is my store, so we'll practice for me."

She raised her brows flirtatiously, as if to challenge me. She was beautiful, no doubt, but her lingering eye contact and sexy smile made me a touch uneasy.

And then it hit me: Dominique knew I was bored and lonely, but she probably had no idea that I was waiting for Karma's arrival. She'd filled me with wine and then sent me to the hot young single woman down the street.

Oh dear God.

Mathilde moved a little closer, adjusting some flowers in a tall, slim vase. "Dominique said you were staying at Ms. Stella's."

"You know Emily?"

Her laugh was husky and quiet. "Yes, I know Emily."

"Oh," I said, eyes widening. Of course. "You mean you know Emily."

"This doesn't make me unique," she said, laughing again. Looking away from her flowers, she asked, "Are you here for flowers? Or do you think perhaps Dominique sent you for something else?"

"My girlfriend is coming tomorrow she was stuck in New York and then they had a strike and now she's coming," I blurted out in one steady, awkward word-flood.

"So you're here for flowers, then." Mathilde paused, looking around the store. "What a lucky woman she is. You are very beautiful." Her eyes slid back to me. "Perhaps you'll be sober by then?"

I frowned. Straightening, I muttered, "I'm not that tipsy."

"No?" Her eyebrows lifted and an amused smile spread across her face. She moved back through the store, collecting an assortment of flowers as she walked. "You are charming anyway, Friend of Emily. The wine just makes you less inhibited. I bet normally you button up your shirts and frown at people who will walk too slowly in front of you."

My frown deepened. That did sound a little like me. "I take my work seriously but I'm not like that . . . all the time."

She smiled, tying some twine around the flowers. Mathilde handed me the bouquet and winked. "You're not at work here. Keep your shirt unbuttoned. And don't sober up for your lover. There are nine beds in that house."

The front door was open. Had Dominique left and not closed it behind her? Panic seized me. What if something had happened when I was in town? What if the house had been ransacked? Despite Mathilde's advice, I sobered instantly.

But it hadn't been ransacked. It was exactly as I left it, with just a bit more wind blowing through the open door. Yet . . . I hadn't come out this way; I'd walked from the backyard to the front gardens.

Down the hall, I heard water running, and I called out to Dominique, "Merci pour l'idée, Dominique, mais ma copine arrive demain." She should know as soon as possible that I was spoken for. Who knows if she would start inviting women over here? Is that what she did for Emily? Dear God, the woman hasn't changed one bit.

As I neared the closest bedroom off the hall, I realized that what I'd heard was a shower. And just inside the door were suitcases.

Karma's suitcases.

I could have barreled in there and scared the ever-loving shit out of her. She had, after all, been stupid enough to leave the front door open enough for it to blow wide in the wind, and then climbed in the shower. I clenched my jaw and fists as I imagined what might have happened if someone else had decided to walk into the house instead of me.

Fuck. I hadn't seen her in days and I already wanted to strangle and then kiss the hell out of her. I felt a smile pull at my mouth. This was us. It was such a familiar battle of love and frustration, desire and exasperation. She would push every button I had, and then uncover new ones I didn't even know I had, and push those.

Her quiet singing drifted from the bathroom into the bedroom I'd claimed the first night here. As I moved closer, peeking around the doorway to where she stood, I was greeted by the sight of her long wet hair slick and shiny down her naked back. And then she bent over so her perfect ass was in the air as she shaved her legs, and kept singing to herself.

Part of me wanted to climb in, take the razor from her hand, and finish the job for her, kissing every smooth inch. Another part of me wanted to climb in and make good on the promise to take her from behind, slowly and carefully. But an even larger part of me relished playing the voyeur. She still didn't know I was there, and seeing her like this—thinking she was alone, singing quietly, maybe even thinking about me?—was like a cold glass of water on a scorching day. I would never get tired of watching her in any setting. And naked, wet, and in the shower wasn't too far from the top scenario on the list.

She rinsed her leg and stood, turning to clear the conditioner from her hair, and that's when she saw me. A smile exploded across her face, her nipples tightened, and in that moment I almost shattered the glass shower door to get to her.

"How long have you been standing there?"

I shrugged, looking down the length of her body.

"Such a creeper."

"Still a creeper, you mean." I moved a little closer, crossing my arms over my chest as I leaned against the wall. "When did you get here, you sneak?"

"About a half hour ago."

"I thought you just caught a plane in the States? Did you go by portkey after all?"

She laughed, tilting her head back under the showerhead for one final rinse, before turning off the water. "I caught the first one I told you about. I thought it would be fun to mislead and surprise you." Taking her long hair in both hands, she pulled it over her shoulder and squeezed the water from it, watching me with eyes that grew increasingly hungry. "I think I was hoping you'd come home to find me naked in the shower. May have been why I stepped into the shower."

"I'll admit it's pretty fucking convenient because I'm ready to be naked myself."

Karma pushed open the door and came directly to me. "I wanted that pretty mouth on me as soon as I heard you were flirting with the flower girl."

I scowled. "Oh please." And then I paused. "How did you know about that?"

She smiled. "Dominique speaks very good English. Said she grew tired of your moping and sent you down there because you're so cute when you're annoyed. I agreed."

"She—what?"

"I'm glad you didn't decide to bring Mathilde back with you, though. That could have been awkward."

"Or it could have been awesome," I teased, pulling her against me and wrapping a towel from the rack around her shoulders. I felt the water from her breasts soak into my clothes.

She's here. She's here. She's here.

I bent, brushed my lips over hers. "Hey, sweetheart."

"Hey," she whispered, wrapping her arms around me. "Have you ever been with two women at once?" she asked, leaning back and running her hands up under my shirt as I worked to dry her off. "I can't believe I haven't ever asked you that."

"I missed you."

"I missed you, too. Answer my question."

I shivered. "Yes."

Her hands were cold and her nails felt sharp when she scratched down my torso. "More than two at a time?"

Shaking my head, I bent to run my nose along her jaw. She smelled like home, like my Karma: her own mild citrus scent and the soft natural smell of her skin. "Weren't you saying something about wanting my mouth on you?"

"Specifically between my legs," she instructed.

"I assumed." I bent, scooped her up, and carried her to the bed.

When I put her down on the edge, she sat up, leaning back on her hands behind her, pulling her feet up on the edge of the bed . . . and spread her legs. She looked up at me, and whispered, "Take your clothes off."

Holy Christ this woman was going to kill me with views like that. I kicked my shoes across the room, yanked off my socks, and reached behind me to pull my shirt over my head. Giving her a few seconds to reacquaint herself with my bare chest, I scratched my stomach and gave her a smile. "See something you like?"

"Are we giving shows?" Her hand slipped over her thigh and between her legs. "I can do that."

"Are you fucking kidding me," I breathed, fumbling with my belt buckle and pulling the buttons of my jeans free in a single movement. I nearly fell over trying to get them off.

Her hand moved away, and then she reached both arms out for me. "On top," she said quietly, apparently not wanting my mouth after all. "Over me, I want to feel your weight."

It was perfect, like this, without pretense. We both wanted to make love before we did anything else: looking around, eating, catching up.

Her skin was cool, and mine still felt flushed from the sun, my uphill walk back to the villa, and the thrill of seeing her here so unexpectedly. The contrast was astounding. Beneath me she was nothing but smooth skin and tiny, quiet sounds. Her nails dug into my back, her teeth slid over my chin, my neck, my shoulder.

"I want you inside," she whispered into a kiss.

"Not yet."

Although she let out a little growl of frustration, for a while she let me simply kiss her. I loved the way her lips felt on my tongue, the way her tongue felt against my lips. I was acutely aware of every point of contact between us: her breasts against my breasts, her hands on my back, the tendons of her thighs pressing into my sides. When she wrapped her legs around mine, her calves felt like a band of heat around me..

Beneath me, she arched and rocked, getting as much friction as she could. Kisses would start tentative, maybe playful, and then grow into deep, ravenous, arching hunger before returning to slow and tasting. She let me press her arms over her head, let me suck and bite her nipples almost to the point of pain. She asked me what I wanted, what felt good, and whether I wanted her body or her mouth first. Her first instinct when we were naked was always to pleasure me.

This woman amazed me. I'd lost perspective on who she used to be outside of our relationship. With me, she could be anything. Brave and afraid weren't opposite. She could be sharp and tender, devious and innocent. I wanted to be her everything in the same way.

"I love the way we kiss," she whispered, the words coming out pressed against my lips.

"What do you mean?" I knew what she meant. I knew exactly what she meant; I simply wanted to hear her talk about how fucking perfect it all felt.

"I just love that we kiss the same, that you always seem to know exactly how I want it."

"I want to be married," I blurted. "I want you to marry me."

Fuuuuuuuck.

And so my entire carefully constructed speech was thrown out the window. My grandmother's antique ring was in a box in the dresser—nowhere near me—and my plan to kneel and do everything right just evaporated.

In the circle of my arms, Karma grew very still. "What did you just say?"

I had completely botched the plan, but it was too late to turn back now.

"I know we have only been together for a little over a year," I explained, quickly. "Maybe it's too soon? I understand if it's too soon. It's just that how you feel about the way we kiss? I feel that way about everything we do together. I love it. I love to be inside you, I love working with you, I love watching you work, I love fighting with you, and I love just sitting on the couch and laughing with you. I'm lost when I'm not with you, Karma. I can't think of anything, or anyone, who is more important to me, every second. And so for me, that means we're already sort of married in my head. I guess I wanted to make it official somehow. Maybe I sound like an idiot?" I looked over at her, feeling my heart try to jackhammer its way up my throat. "I never expected to feel this way about someone."

She stared at me, eyes wide and lips parted as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing. I stood and ran over to the dresser, pulling the box from the drawer and carrying it over to her. When I opened the box and let her see my grandmother's antique diamond and sapphire ring, she clapped a hand over her mouth.

"I want to be married," I said again. Her silence was unnerving, and fuck, I'd completely botched this with my rambling nonsense. "Married to you, I mean."

Her eyes filled with tears and she held them, unblinking. "You. Are such. An ass."

Well, that was unexpected. I knew it might be too soon, but an ass? Really? I narrowed my eyes. "A simple 'It's too soon' would have sufficed, Karma. Jesus. I lay my heart out on the—"

She pushed off the bed and ran over to one of her bags, rummaging through it and pulling out a small blue fabric bag. She carried it back to me with the ribbon hooked over her long index finger, and dangled the bag in my face.

I ask her to marry me and she brings me a souvenir from New York? What the fuck is that? "What the fuck is that?" I asked.

"You tell me, genius."

"Don't get smart with me, Ashcroft. It's a bag. For all I know you have a granola bar, or your tampons, in there."

"It's a ring, dummy. For you."

My heart was pounding so hard and fast I half wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like. "A ring for me?"She pulled a small box out of the bag and showed it to me.

"You were going to propose to me?" I asked, still completely confused.

She punched me, hard, in the arm. "Yes, you butt face. And you totally stole my thunder."

"So, is that a yes?" I asked, my bewilderment deepening. "You'll marry me?"

"You tell me!" she yelled, but she was smiling.

"Technically you haven't asked yet."

"Goddamnit, Amy! You haven't, either!"

"Will you marry me?" I asked, laughing.

"Will you marry me?"

With a growl, I took the box and dropped it on the floor, flipping her onto her back.

"Are you always going to be this impossible?"

She nodded, eyes wide, lip caught between her teeth. Fuck. We could settle this later.

I bent, pressed a kiss into her neck and slid my fingers into her slowly, even though every tendon and muscle in my body wanted it rough and frenzied.I felt her arms wrap around my neck, her face press into my neck as she rose to meet my movements.

"Give it to me," I whispered into her mouth, licking forward, asking. She pressed her head back into the pillow, parted her lips to gasp, and I took the opportunity to slide my tongue into her mouth, to suck a little on hers. "That okay?" I whispered, pressing into the skin of her hip with my fingertips. She loved the edge of pain and pleasure, that razor-sharp line we'd discovered early on together. She nodded and I moved faster, filling my head with the smell of her. I tasted her collarbones, her neck, bit a mark into her shoulder.

"Up here," she breathed, pulling me back up to her face. "Kiss me."

So I did. Over and over until she was panting and squirming beneath me, urging me to move faster. I felt her abdomen tense and then her legs squeezed hard around me, her cries sharp in my ear.

Her cries grew louder, and she screamed and then gasped and I tried to stop and pull my fingers away but I knew she could come again. I knew she was sensitive but she could take more.

"Coming," she breathed. "I can't—I can't—"

Her hips shook and I pushed my fingers inside her as hard as I dare. "Don't you fucking stop."

"Touch me . . . there," she gasped and I knew what she wanted. With a sharp cry she came again, the coiled muscles beneath her skin tightening all around my fingers.

"Yes yes yes yes . . ." she chanted, delirious, before collapsing onto the pillow beneath her.

It felt like the walls rattled in the silence that followed. Everything in my head shook with need for her; it was disorienting.

"Yes," she gasped one last time.

I held very, very still as awareness seeped back into my thoughts. "Yes?"

Then with her limbs still trembling, and breaths coming out in sharp little pants, she gave me a radiant smile. "Yes . . . I want to be married, too."

 **A/N: So that was THE END...or should I write the wedding too? ;)**


End file.
